Fortune
by LockNRoll
Summary: NWN2 OC She's too young to be a leader, a Captain what's next, a Knight? But fate leaves little choice in the matter, as the shardbearer discovers when she's thrown into a world nothing could have prepared her for. Dead until further notice
1. Chapter 1

A.N - To new readers, this began as a project by a disenchanted fan girl craving embellishment on what was a severely lacking OC companion-wise. The story follows my very own feisty, Mary-Sue of a Knight-Captain through the plot of Neverwinter Nights 2, though on a much more personal level. As well as the usual tale of heroics and overcoming impossible odds to save the Sword Coast, _Fortune_ is my attempt to dig a little deeper into the fairytale and find a more realistic response to a girl of 19 dealing (or not) with the challenges the KC is faced with. I guess you'll have to decide for yourself if I've done that by the end.

I'm a better artist than I am a writer. Have a look at my profile page for links to various portraits of Evelyn and one of Casavir that shows him as he is in this fic – i.e. 25. Having a 39-year-old hitting on an 18 year old (the default age for humans) is just creepy. So have a look at that face, and put a less deathly boring voice to it, and you have the Casavir in this story. I sincerely hope you like him better ;)

"-+-+-+-+-" denotes the passage of time or a change in perspective. If it isn't pretty obvious in the first paragraph or so who it is, then it probably isn't meant to be.

This is the first full-length story (let alone romance...) I've attempted, and the first real piece of writing I've done in a long while, so feedback of any kind is appreciated as I'm always looking to improve. Many, many thanks go out to my marvellous beta ChryseisLaurea.

**Chapter One**

"Get up! Wake up! The Flagon is under attack!" The urgency in Duncan's unmistakable accent was the first thing I noticed, even before I took in the message. It was like a gulp of my very own concentrated wormwood brew at four in the morning, and instantly my eyes flew open.

I jolted up and tumbled out of bed, trying to clear my head as fast as I could as I listened out for sounds of combat. Sure enough, the clatter of furniture and clash of weapons from downstairs told me I wasn't just having an unpleasant dream. And here I'd been thinking I'd have a nice, _peaceful_ night for once.

_'Why do these things always happen to me..?'_

I grabbed a pair of trousers from somewhere on the floor and pulled them on and replaced my nightshirt with something a little more practical. Ignoring my bare feet for now I hoisted the sword belt that dangled unceremoniously on a bedpost over my head and ran out the door, still clearing the fog from my mind. The sounds of fighting were close.

Sure enough, I skidded around a corner to see Duncan, still shouting for help as he warded off two Githyanki with a torch pulled from the wall. Wasting no time I sprinted over and, with a cry, impaled one where he stood, ducking the swipe that followed from the other before whirling round and decapitating him. Or was it a her? I never could tell.

"Thank heavens you're here, lass. They came so suddenly, hundreds of the buggers! They're downstairs, mostly. Go help the others!" I nodded, barely hearing him as I hurried down the hall to the stairwell, letting the autopilot developed over years of fighting kick in. I leapt over the banister and tackled one that was attacking a woman running upstairs, twisting my blade in his ribs and spinning to parry the strike from behind me. Perhaps hundreds was an exaggeration, but it sure did look like we had ourselves something of an infestation. How did they get here so quickly? And from where? Come to think of it, why in the hells _were_ they here?

I charged a small group of them and let flying a whirlwind of strikes, hearing the satisfying thump of bodies littering the ground.I gritted my teeth in annoyance as I hacked my way through the warriors and wizards alike, none of them a match for the adrenaline pumping in my blood. I probably should have stopped to put on some boots, came the errant consideration from the place in the back of my mind where I was still cosy in West Harbour and could take a long, luxurious bath whenever I could be bothered to flutter my eyelashes at a village lad and convince him to fetch the hot water. Here, though, life was a little less forgiving. I tried not to think about the events that brought me to where I was now, charging at a group of planar beings with my trusty Bastard Sword grasped in both hands.

Neeshka appeared beside me, a little dishevelled but still on form as she delivered an artful backstab to a creature that noticed her a split second too late, just as I heard the roar of Khelgar's battlecries above the clash of combat. I fought my way forward, and noted with relief that their numbers seemed thinned. Casavir had a small circle of Bladelings surrounding him but I didn't think of going to his aid. After all, he was the best fighter I had, and if anything I could rely on him not to do something utterly stupid and get himself killed mid-melee.

I heard a grunt of anger and turned to see a gith slumping to the floor, the short sword impaled in his ribs removed by the same man that never seemed to leave the bar. I had spoken with him but once there as he downed another drink, and that was enough to get an idea of his character. Didn't look like I was ever going to find out more, though. He was obviously very capable but had flat out refused to speak to anyone else, and had scoffed at any indication of an offer to join us. He scowled at the creatures that had intruded on the evening and wiped the innards smearing one blade on the leather guard on his leg even as he cut down another that approached, almost as an afterthought.

I twisted out my sword from a fallen gith's back and took a quick tally of my companions. Khelgar still looked around furiously for any more enemies, while Neeshka was already eyeing up the bags at their sides. Grobnar was looking over the scene with a brow crinkled in either aversion or amusement as he held his bow uncertainly in one hand. At least he wasn't humming that thrice-damned tune that was forever running circles in my head since the first time he'd played it. Duncan I could hear running around upstairs, though there were no more creatures to be seen, and Sal's head peaked up from his position behind the bar, a serving girl's appearing shortly after. Casavir turned to me as I glanced at him and nodded as if to confirm he wasn't mortally wounded. There was a wry curve to his lips and I figured it was probably due to my hastily-donned attire and mad, uncombed hair that frizzed around my head like a messy halo. Without my boots my trousers only just reached my calves, and my toes looked a little blacker from the inn floor than last night when I'd had my first decent wash in days. I pulled the cuffs of my top up in an attempt to look dignified. There was blood splattered on my stomach that certainly wasn't mine. I scowled, having learnt the hard way how difficult gith blood was to scrub out of cotton.

I watched as Elanee shifted back from her Badger form and went over to tend to a cowering patron's wounds. I had never understood that. Dire or not a badger was still small enough to send flying with a swift kick. And how did _her_ clothes always manage to stay so clean, or, for that manner, in existence as she morphed from one form to the next?

_'Bloody Elves.'_

I was sure there was someone missing, though…

I turned to the door and saw Qara wander in, still in the sort of stiff, woollen nightgown favoured by nobility and yawning expansively, glancing around indignantly to the others as if blaming them for the interruption of her sleep. But it wasn't her I had been thinking of…

"That girl! Shandra! She's been taken!" Duncan burst in past the sorceress and cried out, visibly flustered. I let out a loud, frustrated curse, drawing a disapproving glance from Elanee but hardly caring.

"How in the _Hells_ did they get into the city? How did they know where she was?" I didn't know who I was asking, I just wanted answers. It was definitely either far too early or far too late for this nonsense. We _just_ had her…

"Does it matter how?" I heard a snide voice from the back. I turned and saw him there, kneeling over a dead Githyanki with its head sawn almost clean off. Its swamp-coloured, leathery skin was already starting to pale. He rose and looked at me, a mirthless half-smile on his face.. "You know, you'd better hurry if you want her back. Giths aren't that friendly to their prisoners." He kicked at one of them like a sack of flour, turning it over in the process. "A sprig of Duskwood. That's Luskan territory in case you're wondering. Start there," he said, as if speaking to a group of very small, very stupid children. He inspected us dismissively and began to walk back to his usual spot but Duncan grabbed his attention.

"That's your territory, Bishop..." There was a desperate quality to his voice I didn't like, but he ignored my questioning look. The ranger stopped mid-stride and turned his head to one side, not meeting Duncan's forceful gaze.

"But not my problem. You couldn't pay me enough to go to Luskan, especially not for some farm girl and _especially_ not with any kin of yours," he replied coldly. A scout...now that was someone we needed. I thought back to the piles of gold I had yet to spend...

"You sure about that?" I asked quickly before he got away. His eyes fixed on me in a slow, appraising once-over "Listen, we _need_ her. I'm going after her whether you're with us or not but I've never even set foot anywhere_ near _Luskan, so looks like we need you too," I shrugged, "Hells, even if we don't find her, it'll be fun." He shamelessly raked his eyes down my body but ignored whatever more sordid reply formed in his head. I didn't much care. I had nothing to do with the fact that I was beautiful; it was just something I'd inherited, something to be used to my advantage. Daeghun would be mortified if he knew just how often that was...

"Is your whole damn family deaf, Duncan? _Not_ my problem. Now run along, half-breed." I scowled at what he took to be an insult, as, regardless of my appearance, I liked to think of myself as human. Well, mostly, anyway. Where my ears should have rounded there was a slight point, and, without much of a family tree to trace, my genetics were a bit of a mystery. Perhaps my mother had been elven? Or half-elven like Duncan? Daeghun refused to speak of it, citing old, painful memories as the reason for his silences. I knew he'd lost his wife, so I _did_ try to be understanding, but patience had never been one of my greatest virtues. After years and years of my father shutting off his past and my family completely, I couldn't help but think that maybe, just _maybe_ he could have gotten over it already and at least tell me _something_.

Maybe Elves dealt with these things differently. Either way, I had a lot more in common with what I supposed was my half-elf half-uncle, Duncan.

I saw him move forward forcefully.

"It _will_ be your problem, Bishop. You'll help them. Whether you like it or not," He added, sounding rather more sinister than I'd have thought possible of the perpetually drunk innkeeper. Bishop snorted.

"Oh really? What makes you think..." He'd turned around fully now and trailed off as something wordless passed between the two men. "You sure?" he said through clenched teeth framed with a vicious smile that was entirely devoid of any good nature towards the man in front of him. I stood back and watched the exchange. It sounded more like the ranger was confirming Duncan's death warrant, and I was instantly wary of what was being arranged on my behalf.

"Yes, if that's what it takes to make you do the right thing." I admired Duncan's conviction, particularly in regards to the girl we'd only brought back the night before. Perhaps there was more to him than I had thought...

"Fine," Bishop bit out, "Anything's worth it to be rid of you."

"You'll answer to _her_ now," he nodded in my direction. Under his glower I got the distinct sense of impending doom. But there was something I still found fascinating about him that I couldn't quite place. Grimly, I thought it was probably because the only words he'd said to me were either violent or just plain vulgar. I never _did_ know how to stay away from dangerous things...

"So be it," he said, strangely deadpan as he stared at me, "get dressed and we'll be going. Follow my lead, do what I say and we'll get in and out alive. Well, _I_ will anyway." I was too tired for this. I nodded wordlessly and turned to head back to my room, noticing that most of my companions had already done so. Duncan grabbed my arm and glanced back at the man with thinly veiled fear in his eyes.

"Watch out for him, Evie," he hissed, using the nauseatingly cute pet name he had apparently invented when I was too young to beat it out of him. The depressing thing was, the others had caught on and used it when they thought they were being affectionate. "He don't care about anyone but himself, and his loyalty's easily bought. He won't treat you good, neither, but...well...he's the best."

"Anything else?" I asked, the lack of sleep making me feel even more sarcastic than usual.

"Just...be careful." I rolled my eyes.

"If you think he's such scum then why did you enlist him like that? Come to think of it, what the hell _was_ that, anyway?" I raised my eyebrows expectantly. I knew he had hundreds of secrets, some of them involving me, and I'd let him get away with it so far, but I wasn't about to hike through Luskan without knowing who with.

"Doesn't matter now. All you need to know is that he's a damn good tracker, and a survivor. Few know Luskan territory better."

"Really? How's that?" Duncan was starting to look uncomfortable, but I figured between him and Daeghun I was owed more than a few secrets.

"He's...just a smuggler. Makes regular runs across the border and, well, it's enough to say he's clashed with them enough times."

"Just a smuggler?" I stared intensely at the man before me. He was lying, as he had lied about a great many things since I'd been here. But now wasn't the time to sort it out.

"Aye, and much more than that isn't important right now. If he...uh...gets too rude for you, Evelyn, just let me know and I'll club him a good one," he winked in a depressingly cheery manner considering the time and subject matter, "won't have him insulting one of my kin." We quite clearly weren't related, and I was still wondering where the resemblance between him and Daeghun was, but was tired enough to let it go. It was hardly past midnight and it felt like I hadn't slept in days but there was no time for that now. Now, I was deathly concerned for someone I barely knew and for a reason I didn't yet understand. But I would, soon enough. I couldn't run back home no matter how much I wanted to. Not now. I'd see this through no matter what, if not for myself then for the people that counted on me. For once, I didn't ask why.

"Never mind. I'll be careful, _uncle_." I brushed past him, stalking to my room. Qara's door was closed and the bizarrely loud sounds of her slumber echoed through. I hadn't yet thought of a polite enough way to ask her to leave that wouldn't result in her torching the whole bloody building.

Casavir emerged from the room before mine, weapon and armour ready for travel, and inclined his head in a greeting just as he stifled a yawn I could hardly blame him for. He was right to assume I'd take him, I always had done, ever since he'd joined with us. I still remembered that unfathomable look in his eyes as I spoke to him at the Well, firelight illuminating his chiselled face that seemed so much younger than his years. But there was something uneasy in his gaze as I nodded back at him now. I thought back to the faint shift in his expression as it was decided Bishop would travel with us. I sighed as I entered my room. The two of them would never get on. His head had shot up in anger as the ranger had greeted me for the first time. What was it he had said? _'Stick, around, darling. A few more drinks and you'll start looking good to me.' _Damn chivalry. Whatever honour I had left was hardly worth defending in the first place. I strapped on my breastplate and pulled up my thick leather boots as I thought of more important things. Shandra...we needed her back, and soon. I didn't know what they wanted from her, and just hoped it wasn't the same thing I did. Whatever that was. She was certainly proving to be an interesting if not troublesome one. Pretty, too, as Qara had been quick to point out acidly. _He_ had jumped to her aid as well. _'A little Paladin charm sure softened her up,'_ Neeshka had jokingly observed. That had annoyed me for some reason. I was probably just selfish.

I sheathed a foot-long blade in my belt and glanced in the long mirror adorning the wall, pulling my impractically long hair back and securing it in a tight bun with more resolve than I felt. It was serious, now, and time was of the essence.

_'I won't come back without you, Shandra.'_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

"What do _you_ want?" He demanded resentfully, instantly on guard as I approached him. The morning after the first break he had allowed us and Bishop acted like he hadn't slept a wink. But I couldn't imagine him asleep, or in any situation where he wasn't entirely on guard and in control. Whenever my eyes had strayed over to him he was looking right back at me, like a beast ready to pounce at any moment. I trusted him enough not to hurt us, though. The look Duncan shot him had told me enough. Now, however, I was up early and had stumbled out of my makeshift tent to see him covering what remained of the fire with dirt.

"You've barely said a word since you've been here that wasn't an order. Was just wondering who it is I'm travelling with, that's all," I shrugged and noticed not without annoyance the roll of his eyes he didn't even try to hide.

"You're not paying me to talk, I've just been roped into getting you and your little_ group _here to that girl you brought back but somehow managed to lose before a day passed." The bitter humour in his voice sung of an utter conviction that we were no more than amateurs. He'd have been mostly right a month or two ago, but now that I had a pretty good idea of what I was doing I was getting tired of people not taking me seriously.

"Actually, I _am_ paying you. You've got a job to do, so like everyone else you'll get your cut of whatever loot we find on the way." It was true. I was meticulous about everyone getting an equal share. Just because I was supposed to be the leader didn't mean I was worth more than the others. I was just handy with a blade, whereas they were the ones with the skills we really needed.

"Ha, sure, I'll bet that's not a bad arrangement as far as you're concerned."

"I get exactly the same as the others. As hard as it may be for someone like you to understand, I'm not in this for the money."

"Right, right, must just be that golden heart of yours," he scoffed, "Cut the crap if you're trying to impress me. I don't care who you are or why you're risking yourself for some farm girl, as long as you're not stupid enough to get in my way or get yourself killed."

"Look, I _need_ her. She knows something I don't about why I'm here, and that's all you need to know if you're going to be this reclusive," I sighed, figuring I wasn't likely to get any more out of him, "Besides, Duncan already told me what kind of man you are. Don't know why I expected more, anyhow." I had no problem with smugglers in principle, but his attitude was getting on my last nerve. I hardly _looked_ the part of the capable warrior, but it was no reason for him to assume I was some kind of gormless do-gooder.

"Oh _did_ he, now?" The sneer he gave me was predatory and I supposed was meant to threaten me. "I'll have to have a little talk with him, then." He added ominously, "Tell your worthless drunk of an uncle the next time he opens his trap I'm going to close it for him none too gently. Just hope saying stupid things to dangerous people doesn't run in your family."

"He's _not_ my real uncle." I said, almost feeling a little insulted. "His half-brother's my foster father, and that's it. Can't think why he's so obsessed with keeping his kin safe considering the last time I met him I was five." He shook his head with a smirk.

"Figures. I'll admit I had trouble believing he was related to something like you. After all, most elves '_maidens'_ are just skin and bone." I got the distinct impression he was teasing me, but didn't give him the satisfaction of getting annoyed. Outwardly, anyway.

"Why were you hanging around the Flagon, anyway?"

"Waiting for Duncan to either kick me out or send me on some dead-end job like this. Why do you care?"

"No reason, just trying to think of what a man like you does when he's not on these 'dead-end' jobs."

"Well now..." He cocked his head to one side and his eyes travelled appreciatively up my figure as he took a step forward. "That's a rather..._intimate_...question." I knew enough about men to obliterate most of their defences with a single smile or glance from under my lashes, but he wasn't like other men. He was far from the simpletons and gawking travellers I'd encountered in West Harbour, and I sincerely doubted I was the most exotic thing he'd come across, even with my cherry hair and striking features that had rendered more than one admirer helpless. I wasn't that girl any more, though. Or at least I was trying not to be. I wanted him to take me seriously and here he was playing on my _advantageous_ genetics. Instantly his expression was mocking, laced with a bitter humour. "You think a few promises and honeyed words is going to soften me up? Show you my _tender_ side?" He laughed. "Think again, lass. You'll need more on both accounts to do that." I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms, trying not to get angry at his comments.

"I know better than that, _Bishop_, and I'm not expecting anything from you other than what I'm paying you for - to find Shandra. If all you're going to do is mock me then there's no point in asking for much else, now, is there?"

"Oh _come_ now, you asked a question." The jeering note was still there but the snide joke at my expense wasn't as audible. "Since you _are_ paying me, might as well give you an answer. What do I do when I'm not escorting travellers like you through the forest? Shooting them with arrows, mostly. Or stabbing them in the throat. Sometimes even tracking them down so someone else gets the pleasure of killing them. Good enough answer for you, _my lady?_" He ended with a toothy smirk and a tone that was oddly reminiscent of the almost absurdly formal way Casavir addressed me. In fact, the only real words he'd spoken that weren't orders were snipes at the Paladin. "I'm only half-serious, you realise, but that's all you're getting, I'm afraid. Don't much matter how much you pay me because there's no gold that can buy my thoughts." His eyes left mine for a second as a loud clattering of armour followed by grumbled swearwords in a thick Dwarven accent told us the camp was waking up. "Back to business." He muttered, and for the first time ignored me entirely as he went about covering our tracks.

This would be a _long_ trip.

-+-+-+-+-

Khelgar summoned up something thick from the back of his throat and spat with astounding precision into the long grass as we made our way through the forest path. Neeshka narrowed her eyebrows and crinkled her lips in disdain.

"That's so _disgusting_. I'd hate to think what your homes are like if you do that underground…"

"Oh shut it, goat-girl, you've done nothing but whine since we left Neverwinter! All of that nonsense about that spit-bucked of a city being a thing of beauty! Why when I was younger…"

I tuned out the sound of the bickering like I had so many times before, beginning to realise that the point at which they would actually find some common ground and make up was becoming less and less visible. Casavir was putting up with it remarkably well. We must have been a far cry from the order he was used to, with his impeccably turned-out sergeant and loyal band of men. I felt almost guilty for taking him away from them, particularly after noticing the clench-jawed Katriona eyeing me warily as she said her farewells. _Almost_ guilty. I didn't know how I'd ever done without him watching out for us, making us into a proper group instead of just a gathering of people with debts of service and common interests. He marched beside me now, eyes always deadly serious as he gazed ahead. Besides, it was like he had said to me, he was needed here, and with us he was probably doing more than at the Well, especially after we eliminated the majority of the threat there. It felt good to actually be doing good and seeing the results, instead of reporting to a soulless and faceless officer like Brelanna. She had...tried my patience. More than I cared to admit. I was nobody's lapdog, but it had been the only way to find Aldannon. And now, they assumed I'd fall into line like the rest of the soulless squires I met. Well, I'd just have to prove them wrong. Somehow.

Casavir was different, I could tell. Perhaps it wasn't so obvious, but I knew he couldn't be one of them. He hadn't told me exactly why he had left everything behind in Neverwinter, and I didn't expect him to, but knowing that he at least had a conscience beyond what duty dictated was a comfort. Most like him didn't take too kindly to my sorts of methods. But he was still here, as were the rest of them, so I must have been doing something right. A growl from behind told me the argument had been resolved in the usual fashion, with Neeshka saying something Khelgar either didn't understand or wouldn't dignify with a response, and the two of them coming to an uneasy truce until next time.

Quite the colourful little group I had assembled so far.

The beaten track to what Bishop said was the village of Ember appeared before us as we rounded a corner. The only sounds to be heard were our own footsteps, and instantly I was suspicious. I looked up to the sky and saw no tendrils of smoke curling into the clouds. And for harvest season there was a distinct lack of...well..._harvest._ The ranger a few steps in front of me raised a hand, listening intently as the group ground to a halt.

"Something's not right," he said gravely. I heard the grip on Khelgar's warhammer tighten behind me. We moved forward warily, Neeshka all but silent while even Casavir looked a little apprehensive.

"No people, no animals, not even any stock out for market. Where is everyone?" I asked in a low voice as I regarded the barren village, hoping our native of Luskan would have an answer like he always seemed to.

"Good eyes..." He almost sounded impressed, reminding me a little of Daeghun's resigned smirk when I finally remembered how to conjugate an irregular elvish verb or could tell him the exact properties of the plant he waved under my nose as I was blindfolded. People could think what they liked about him, but in the end however cold he was to others he was still my father, still the man that gave me what was probably the most thorough education any Harbourman had ever received, and who had taken me in and raised me as his own. Not for the first time, I felt a little homesick, but pushed it to one side and tried to concentrate on the scene ahead. Bishop scanned the horizon. "Clearly we're on the trail of our repulsive _friends_, though. They're moving fast but we're closing the gap. Probably passed through here and frightened away the villagers," he said with vexation.

"How can you be so sure we're on their trail?" Neeshka sighed and walked forward. "They can't be going _that_ fast, and we've been hunting them for days now..." The tiefling's tail swished from side to side, like it always seemed to do when she was annoyed. Every time we left Neverwinter for greener pastures she got a little moody. I didn't blame her, after all she had grown up in the city, but perhaps placed a little more faith in Bishop's abilities than she did. Whatever it was Duncan pulled to get him on our side must have been worth it.

"They haven't covered their tracks very well. The trail's hard to miss," I answered, hoping to disperse the aura of mistrust and annoyance at the ranger's attitude. He nodded at my words, his expression cool and calculating, as if he could see right into my thoughts.

"True. Come to think of it...it's almost _too_ easy to follow them. Perhaps they want us to keep up..." he murmured suspiciously. "I don't like it. Especially not with this deserted village." He turned to the others. "Keep your eyes open and weapon handy. I smell an ambush." He moved forward like a panther, eyebrows lowered in concentration as he strained his ears for any signs of movement. I drew my blade and lowered it by my side, barely a step behind him. In one movement he pushed me back and ducked as an arrow whizzed past my head. "Attack!" He roared as he unsheathed his swords and headed straight for the archer crouched behind a crate. In moments they were crawling over the village entrance, a loud battle-cry erupting from Khelgar as he charged.

I sprinted to one side and began to hack away at a group of fighters out of range of the concealed snipers they had positioned around the houses. A puff of smoke to my left as I arched back to avoid a swipe and Neeshka appeared, striking with incredible precision and speed. The head of the last of them flew into the side of a cart after a powerful slash with my meticulously sharpened sword. I whirled around and skidded down the small hill to intercept the Bladeling that slithered towards Casavir's open side, cutting it down with barely a thought. I crouched and brought my leg around to tumble over a pair of Giths that had spotted me and let a curve of my blade follow. I was getting remarkably good at dispatching them. It was almost a little fun. I felt the wetness of a wound on my shoulder, just where my armour failed to overlap, but forgot it for the time being, feeling the adrenaline flow through me as I became one with my weapon.

It was only when I felt a strong pair of gloved hands on my aching shoulder that I realised the battle was over. I sighed in gratitude as the holy healing magic washed over me, mending every cut and soothing every throbbing muscle. Casavir stepped away and I smiled in gratitude at the warrior I knew I could always count on to quite literally watch my back, but my attention was quickly pulled elsewhere as I heard a self-satisfied chuckle from Bishop.

"Not a bad ambush they set out here. Look, we even drew in the reinforcements." He nodded his head at the littering of bodies further into the village. "Might have even worked if I hadn't been here." He smirked, wiping his blades before sheathing them and cracking his knuckles. "There's a large force in this village, easily over half of those that escaped the flagon. That'll make it a hell of a lot easier on us when we finally do catch them."

"True enough, but there'll be less of a trail now that they don't need us to follow them. And they'll be faster." I was determined to hack away at the preconceptions he had about me. It looked as if it was working, though, as he raised an eyebrow and smirked almost approvingly.

"Well aren't _you_ a bright ray of hope. And here I was thinking all harbourmen were unwashed hicks." He added, voice thick with sarcasm. I could almost _hear_ Casavir's irritation behind me and cringed as he stepped forward.

"There was no need for that, Bishop," he chided. I could really have done without another argument between the two men. One had to wonder what on Faerûn it was they were arguing over, anyway.

"Reign in that attitude, Paladin," he shot back snidely, chuckling dismissively. "What, you think she can't speak for herself if she wants to?"

"I wasn't speaking for her, I was --"

"Oh yeah? Then don't. Maybe next time you'll sound convincing." He turned back to me, facing away from Casavir while clearly enjoying the reaction he had evoked. Boys would be boys, but I really didn't have time for this now. "What I was _going_ to say, was that our leader is right. We'll have to hurry if we're going to catch them. When we finally do we'll handle them as we handled this _ambush_ of theirs. More than can be said for the villagers that gave up their homes at the first signs of attack." He gritted out, clearly resentful.

"The githyanki are not common attackers, and these villagers are not warriors like us," Casavir corrected again. I wished he'd just let it go but figured it was probably impossible. I didn't blame him for his reaction, after all he had trained as a Paladin of Tyr for years. They were pretty big on defending the meek and punishing evildooers, or so I assumed. Bishop must have irritated him like no other. "Their behaviour can be forgiven - they were unarmed and unaware."

"We were the reason the gith were here," I interjected quickly before Bishop had a chance to completely denounce what he was saying. "It's not their fault they were attacked, and they had no reason to expect it. But...still...there aren't any signs of a struggle. They must have either fled completely or are still in hiding."

"_Exactly_" the ranger added, "Duncan told me what happened to your little swamp village, and how you all fought to save it. Thanks to your actions you drove the gith back and stopped them from torching the place, I hear. What do you think would have happened if you'd decided to run and hide like these?"

"_I'll_ say." Neeshka piped up, "We could have been killed saving them and they're nowhere to be found, even when the danger's gone. No reward, no nothing..."

"It doesn't matter what might have been, Bishop," Casavir answered in my stead, which I would have found extremely irritating were he not so blinded with annoyance at the man before him. "This isn't West Harbour, and these are just untrained villagers. It's not the same." I wondered exactly what glowing standard he thought the militia of West Harbour were up to but decided this wasn't the moment to ask.

"You know what would have happened as well as I do," he ignored the paladin and looked straight at me with that penetrating stare, "If you're not willing to kill for it like you did, it can't be that important."

"Fighting is _not_ the only option," Casavir spoke again. I heard Khelgar snort in disagreement. "A willingness to die is not always a testament to what you believe in."

"Keep telling yourself that. Heard a little about Old Owl Well...wonder what it was you were willing to die for there, huh?" The paladin remained silent. "And stop answering for her, holy man. Hells, you'd think you were _both_ deaf, dumb and blind the way you treat her."

"_She_ is right here, and she'd prefer it if you two could tolerate each other long enough for us to get out of here," I said, gritting my teeth.

"Aye!" The dwarf grunted out. "Start treating her with the respect she deserves!" I silently thanked my three-and-a-half-foot fan club and glared daggers at the two men.

"Sure thing, _boss_," Bishop replied, smirking at Casavir's scowl.

"Not paying you to talk, remember?" I shot back at him as I turned to continue on, just wanting to be back at the Flagon with Shandra safe and sound. He laughed, which surprised me.

"Ah, I think I'll like this journey after all." He winked at me in an incredibly overt, mocking manner, obviously intended to anger the paladin further. I rolled my eyes and turned towards the other side of the village.

"Enough. Every moment we wait the trail gets colder," I concluded with a note of finality before stalking forward as I massaged my temples. At least _someone_ would enjoy this merry jaunt through the woods.

"Oh do shut _up_" I snapped at the no-nosed villainess that barred my path. Zeearie looked like a charbroilled corpse, and she had been telling me the same rattle their people had thrown in my direction since our very first encounter. My patience was wearing thin. Shandra was gagged and bound with oddly coloured rope in a cage to a corner. Her eyes were wide with desperation and hope, and only served to toughen my resolve. "I'm here to kill _you_ and take _her_, so if you wouldn't mind obliging me..." I was still in a foul mood from the encounter beforehand. The devil, _Mephasm..._that had been interesting. Neeshka's mouth opened to tell me not to trust him, but something primal had made me spit out '_I will make no deals with a Ba'atezu_.' I could barely stand to look at him without wanting to cut him down, and had to get Casavir to talk to him instead. Part of me knew I could trust his motives, but another screamed at me to end his life right there, erase his existence from this world. My blood was still boiling as I glared at Zeeaire.

She didn't say a thing, but simply grinned, showing off rows of crooked, off-coloured teeth, and lifted her hand in a vague yet unmistakeably powerful gesture. I was lifted off my feet unceremoniously and couldn't stop my mouth from opening in shock. Khelgar next to me gripped my ankle and tried to pull me down huffily but to no avail. I was trapped, and couldn't move a muscle under her spell. From the secure pouch in my side the shards burst forth and flew straight into her claw-like hands. I cursed inwardly.

"They do not belong to you, _Kalach-cha._" I was getting sick of that phrase, especially pronounced in the hissing, painful accents her kind sported. "Poor, _stupid_ female. Did you honestly think you could keep such relics of my people and expect no retribution?" Her catlike eyes narrowed to slits. I saw out of the corner of my eye Bishop's cold expression, always watching the enemy but now his eyes flicked back towards me with his hands on his weapons and nodded. Always ready. To my right stood Casavir, one hand on the hilt of his long, powerful sword, the other itching to destroy the evil that ran thick in this place. If I fell I knew I could count on them to finish the job. Neeshka was in the shadows, waiting for the opportunity to strike. My limbs were still frozen in place.

"Odd..." Zeeaire continued, "I have all that are in your possession, yet you carry another still..." Now it was my turn to be confused. I could have sworn they were all I'd had. Suddenly I felt myself dropping as she released the spell, but with another flick of her hand I felt my chest burst into flames as I was forced upwards as if suspended by a jagged hook through my ribcage. I cried out with the intensity of the agony shooting through my body as I spasmed uncontrollably. It felt like my breastbone was being jimmied open with a crowbar and my still-beating heart cut out. The part of my brain that was trying to think of anything other than the searing pain reminded me of a freakish love letter I'd received in my youth which had said just that. What was his name again? Somehow, it didn't matter at the moment.

"What the hells are you doing?" Khelgar roared, looking about frantically. "Stop it! Stop it now! You're killing her!" A pale yellow glow encapsulated me and mercifully the pain dulled to a harsh throbbing. I clutched at my chest savagely, searching for a way to release myself from her hold. And then it stopped, and I fell to the ground gasping for air as the sharp torment dimmed to a memory. I felt a hand on my shoulder restoring my strength, and again the holy magic washed over me like rain. I grasped Casavir's armoured wrist half in thanks, half in support, and he pulled me to my feet as I caught my breath.

"You...oh my...but you are _special_..." The githyanki began, amusedly. "You have a piece of the sword, but...it is _inside_ you." I looked down suddenly, and it became horrifically crystal clear. That wound I'd carried with me all my life...the way the shards sang to me...it all made a bizarre kind of sense. "In that case, there is no choice but to take it from you," he raised her arms and the barrier around her began to hum with an unearthly light, "_Forcefully_."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Duncan's eyes were wide with joy as I kicked open the door to his creaky tavern in frustration. I wanted a strong drink, a scalding bath and a damn good explanation, in no particular order. We tumbled in and he immediately embraced Shandra before throwing his arms around me.

"Welcome back, everyone!" He placed his hands on his hips and regarded my group with a self-satisfied grin that showed off two magnificent rows of teeth yellowed by years of pipeweed and drink. "Glad to see that you've all returned! And in one piece, no less!" Well, that wasn't as unlikely as he made it sound. The battle with Zeeaire had been long and particularly aggravating, with far more complications than I would have liked, and with my fingers and arms sporting a few more fresh scars than I suspected was wholly necessary. I really had to buy myself some proper armour one of these days. I'd have to ask Casavir where he got his own tin can from. The rebel thought came that it was probably a gift from Tyr himself for one particularly pious month spent in service. I shook the joke away, remembering the man that had saved my life on more than one occasion, even taking a hit himself from a Bladeling that caught me unawares. Not to say I didn't have his back as well, after all I liked to think of myself as a good leader looking out for her allies, but he'd always be the one to jump to my aid or heal my wounds. But then, he was a Paladin. Protecting the stupid, weak and female was their job, I supposed. Well, _I'd_ show him how much I didn't need protecting.

"I need to talk to you, Duncan," I said, entirely serious. We could celebrate later – for now I just wanted to get things straight.

"Time for that later, lass, surely?" There was still a chuckle in his voice. I glowered.

"It's about the wound I got when I was a child." I saw the realisation dawn in his eyes, and the dimming of his smile. "Yeah, that one." It had always been there, and Daeghun had always credited it to a stray blade from the battle. Perfectly healed, but there was still a long, jagged line from my navel to my breastbone that was bumpier and pinker than the surrounding skin. I had other scars, of course, you didn't get to where I was without some marks to show for it, but this one had always been different.

"Oh...lass...why are you even asking again? There's nothing special about it, just a memory of the first battle at West Harbour, when you were just a babe. Not sure how you got it, must have just been struck by a stray arrow or something. Nearly died, you know, but you're here now and that's what counts, right?" He grinned in an attempt to disperse the mood. The others had mostly skulked off to one side and I narrowed my eyes at the man in front of me. I had had just about enough of this.

"Stop lying to me. Now." I had no time for this. Daeghun had never told me the truth about my parents or that battle, probably thinking it too much for me to handle. I was sick of being coddled like I was still just a child.

"I'm _telling_ you, I don't know anything else, especially about something from so long ago. Can't imagine it has much significance now, anyway." He shrugged dismissively, but there was a nervousness in his voice he couldn't quite cover.

"Dammit, Duncan, you know _exactly_ what I mean." I rammed my fist down on the table in front of me, the anxiety in his disposition increasing. "There's a whole bloody _shard_ lodged in my chest beneath this foot-long scar, _which_, by the way, the Gith can use to give me a hell of a hard time. And the _really_ shocking thing is that neither you nor my father thought it might be a good idea to tell me _before_ you send me into their stronghold?" I demanded through gritted teeth.

"What? The wound in your chest? But...that would mean you've been carrying a shard with you for...well, almost your entire life. I...I'm so sorry, lass, I...I mean _we _had no idea..." I'd got to know Duncan pretty well during my time here, and he wasn't good enough to fake that surprise. I softened a little, figuring he probably hadn't known after all.

"Ah...stumbling over his words. Your uncle's been keeping his fair share of secrets, I'll wager."

"_Silence_, Bishop!" He shot at the ranger, who stood to one side smirking at me. Damn those hunter's ears. Duncan took me over to one side so our words had some measure of privacy and spoke as if a tremendous weight pressed down on his chest. "Listen...Evelyn...I know I'm not the one who should tell you this, Gods know we've left it for long enough...but it's high time you know the truth about things, especially if you've got one of those silver shards in you."

"And it's taken you this long to realise? Just start talking." I knew I shouldn't have been that angry at him, but I needed someone to vent at and he was closest. He sighed deeply, steeling himself for his words to come.

"Daeghun already told you, I'm sure, about the attack on West Harbour, when the King of Shadows led an army against Neverwinter, whose forces were at the village." There was a far-off look in his eyes as he remembered the tale, a slight crinkle in his brow. "We were struck so suddenly, and without any warning. There was so much panic, and fire...confused villagers fleeing every which way to get away from the battle. Shayla...you know, Daeghun's wife? Well, she and your mother stayed behind to save you. They fought to reach you, even as you lay in your crib. By the time we realised, well...we could only watch as the place was burned up in the battle. We feared all of you dead, my dear...I...I've never seen Daeghun so frantic...But then after...I suppose you must know that well enough. It was like his very soul died inside him…"

"What happened?"

"Well...of those that had stayed in the village, not one was alive...except you. Your mother...we found her..." He wasn't looking at me any more. If I'd concentrated hard enough I was sure I could make out the flames of battle in his eyes. "So much blood...covering everything...you were screaming your tiny head off, drenched in it like a newborn. She held you to her, your mother, tight as if she would never let you go, Shayla lay near her, killed instantly by a javelin of fire. There was a wound unlike anything I'd ever seen in your chest. It…why it was _glowing_. That's what made us think it was an enchanted demon's blade. She'd tried to shield you, but the shard...it must have been what cut straight through her and embedded in you. Defying all logic and every law of nature...you survived. No one knows how, and, frankly, I'm still a little baffled. The wound sealed itself within a few days, and left a nasty scar but I suspect it's faded over the years. Aside from that...well, there are too many questions and I'm all out of answers."

"Anything else you've been hiding from me, then? Daeghun told me my mother had died in childbirth, and his wife...well he never spoke of her."

"Listen, it _wasn't_ my decision to keep things from you. My brother will be _furious_ that I've told you, but...well, I guess he thought it'd be too much for you. Maybe too much for him. I wanted to tell you before, truly, but..."

"Oh, why the long faces, you two?" Bishop's snide, cheerfully sarcastic voice came from one side as he approached us, "You'd think somebody _died_ by your tones. If so sounds like more of a cause for celebration," he grinned, somehow making me forget the grave subject we had been discussing, and turned his head to Grobnar, though his eyes were still fixed on me. I wasn't heartless, I'd just had an awful long time to get over the deaths of my parents and my childhood. These new facts sent me reeling a little, but somehow…none of it seemed very _real_. It was as if I was reading a book about myself, and everyone knew that in the end the hero won. Maybe that was why it wasn't hitting me as hard as it should have done. After this was finished I'd have a long, deep discussion with Daeghun. We owed it to each other. But for now, I looked back at the ranger before me. He had heard every word we'd said. "Grobnar, you worthless half-man, strike up a tune..."

"I don't think that's necessary, Grobnar. We can do without music for the time being..." I interjected quickly, deigning to give my assaulted eardrums a rest. He spoke again to me, flippant and patronising.

"Oh, by the way, I've decided to stay on with you. It's in both our interests, after all." I saw Duncan's mouth fall open, horrified.

"Why would you want to do that, Bishop? Thought you were a _free spirit_," I replied, trying to sound casual to mask the fact that I was genuinely interested. He'd made it quite clear he could barely stomach the lot of us, even before he was made to help. So why now?

"What? Does a man need a reason? Though since you asked it just so happens that I've had _so_ much fun on our little trip that I couldn't possibly miss out on another instalment." Well I didn't believe that for a second, unless it was for the same sort of reason you just can't help looking at a burning wreckage as it consumes itself. "Besides, Duncan's _kind_ request was enough to start this," his voice quietened to a far-off murmur, "Might as well finish it." There was more to it than a simple request – much more. But now wasn't the time to ask.

"We don't need any more of your _help, _ranger," Casavir said suddenly, stepping forward from his place on the opposite side of the room to Bishop's usual table. Before I had a chance to diffuse the coming argument Bishop's head swerved to face him directly and he spoke as if he was relishing the opportunity.

"Ah, there you go again. Why don't you let our leader speak for herself, eh, 'Paladin'? Without you speaking for her?"

"This isn't about that," he continued, his voice as measured as ever though there was a tension he couldn't quite shake off, "This is about the fact that since you've joined us all you've done is make things difficult for everyone else."

"For _you_, you mean. Correct me if I'm wrong, as I'm sure you'll do anyway, but I don't hear our _leader_ complaining about me being here." I hated people speaking about me as if I wasn't even there. Bishop could have ended it, as Casavir remained silent, but something made him continue to bait the paladin, whose demeanour remained remarkably calm though frustration simmered behind his eyes. "Not nice having someone else move in on your territory, _is_ it?" He said in a low, amused voice.

"I don't know what―"

"_You're_ talking about. As usual. Leave the decisions up to her, why don't you?" He nodded his head in my direction. Somehow Casavir bit back the retort I could see burning on his lips.

"Bishop, there's really no need," Duncan's earnest, nervous voice came from behind me, "I'm very sorry for what happened before, but I think you've more than..."

"Oh _come_, Duncan, I still owe you. May as well make it up to you by keeping a close eye on your kin, here. A debt's a debt," he said, finishing coldly, "All the way to the end. Isn't that right?"

"_Enough_ of this," I said finally, "Bishop can stay," there was a triumphant smirk from him, but I wanted him to know precisely where he stood, "As long as you remember _who's_ in charge, follow my orders, and don't do anything stupid." He shrugged, still smirking, and looked over to Shandra as she approached.

"Um...I hate to ask, Evelyn, but...what happens to me now?" She was nervous, which was something of a first considering her attitude when I first met her. Though I supposed it was understandable what with everything she had gone through. "Because, well, I can't just go back to my farm, it being ashes now..." I wondered how I'd feel if my life was suddenly uprooted as hers had been. All right, perhaps it had been, but I always had West Harbour to go back to. Shandra...well, she didn't have a home any more. I felt a twinge of sympathy, and decided that I'd do what I could to help her, and not the sort of 'help' she'd got from us before. She was a few years my senior, but it didn't feel like it as I watched her, anxious and unsure about her future. It was my fault she was here, probably also my fault that she'd been found in the first place. I'd make it up to her.

"You're very welcome to travel with us, Shandra. Or not, whatever you wish. You can stay here if you've had your fill of fighting and I'll make sure you're taken care of."

"Why? If you just want someone easy on the eyes, that's what I'm here for, I believe," Bishop added smugly with an evocative look in my direction. Every sentence, every breath he had uttered to me on the way back had been heavy with innuendo. I wasn't sure if he was joking or not, but I didn't think he'd object if I agreed. After all, I knew I was attractive enough and doubted if there was a man alive that would throw me out of bed, but where was the fun in giving in? He _was_ pretty easy on the eyes, sure. All the same, I could have just as easily sat staring at Casavir for a day or two - though I doubted he'd thaw by then - as he was ideally clean-cut and handsome just as a paladin should be. But I was hardly going to do either of those things, and not just because I liked the chase the best. I was here for something entirely different and refused to get caught up in girlish flirtations or infatuation. I'd left that person behind when I left West Harbour, and I'd be damned if she was coming back. Hurtling ahead to the present, the paladin himself had made a reappearance and crossed his arms thoughtfully, his head cocked to one side. He looked better after a day's travel, I decided. The well-groomed look didn't entirely suit him – he was too young. I expected a rebuke for Bishop but there was none, apparently to the ranger's disappointment.

"Shandra...as our leader has said you are very welcome to travel with us, but do not feel obliged. The danger may be greater than within these walls, though...even that is not certain." There was a caution in his tone, but it was as soothing as ever, and she looked almost a little bashful as he spoke to her, which I tried not to let annoy me. In what I presumed was a nervous habit she took a lock of flaxen blonde hair and twirled it around a finger, toughened from years of farm work.

"Yeah, I know, but...well, when I'm alone, that's when the problem crops up. At least with you I'll have protection if they come for me again. Though that's not to say I won't do anything, I mean...I'm no wizard but I'm a good swordwoman, and I know a thing or two about herbs and the like..." She gripped her shoulder uncertainly but there was determination in her eyes, like hard, round marbles of azure that stared fiercely out from beneath a crown of chestnut lashes.

"Then it's settled," I smiled at her in what I hoped was a welcoming fashion, "I'll teach you what I know as we travel, and we can always use another sword arm. Besides, hate to bring it up, but we sort of need you anyway." It was true. In all the _excitement_ I'd almost forgotten that we needed her blood out of necessity. I didn't suppose it mattered, though, as long as she wanted to travel with us.

"Well..." Bishop began in a long, drawn-out sneer, "as long as we _need_ her and don't _want_ her, I'll drink to that." I remembered with a little amusement the look of horror on her face when he'd snidely suggested she keep him warm at night, as well as the brash wink he'd given me when I'd told him to shut up, telling me he hadn't forgot _my_ 'lovely' face. The _impudence_...

"Maybe you should watch your tongue, Bishop," Casavir shot furiously. That must have been brewing there all day, considering the amount of inappropriate, snide, or just plain wicked comments the ranger had made. I didn't mind so much, but unlike most of the others his strident words made me laugh, as I knew they held little sincerity.

"And maybe you should _listen_ with your ears, _Paladin_. Our leader calls the shots, and we obey. Haven't you got that yet?" I saw Casavir gritting his teeth but he managed not to say anything. If I was in his position I'd have decked the other man in the face by now, but _perhaps_ I wasn't as patient or as virtuous as Casavir was.

"As I was _saying_...Shandra, you're welcome to stay with us for as long as you need," I said as warmly as possible to try and break the atmosphere.

"Then that's all I ask. Well...good. By your side is where I'm staying, it looks like." She smiled back at me, a genuinely happy smile, and looked around at her new companions.

"Well good, we need someone to make up for the holy man, or at least to pick up arrows if Grobnar isn't already pumped full of them." He grumbled. "For now, I say we celebrate. Let's crack open some of those kegs and drown the Flagon in wine..."

I'd never been so happy to see a whiskey glass. It was always the best cure for a headache.

-+-+-+-+-

"If I obeyed _half_ of what I heard I doubt I'd be able to have a scrap of respect for myself. I'm not some mindless thrall, you know," I said, grinning as I took another swig.

"Hmm...true enough. And I've seen enough of your actions to know that myself. I'm not one for following every rule and regulation set down either, and I'm not that big on doing what everybody tells me," mirth sparked in his eyes suddenly, a joke always at the expense of everyone else, "You know we could just set the princess off on a rampage through Luskan," he jerked his head at Qara, who sat glowering at her surroundings with a thin glass of green liquid in one hand, "I'll bet it would take care of enough of your problems, probably singe whoever's after you, too." He smirked as I threw my head back and laughed, the feeling of letting go after so long something I relished. I felt the drink blurring my thoughts a little, and loved it, looking back at the man in front of me and figured he was probably trying to get me completely off my head, hence the predatory grin and continuing signals to Sal to fill up my glass. Well, he certainly had a task ahead of him. When I wasn't having endless facts drummed into me by Daeghun, practising with my blade or going about being female, I had worked in the village tavern almost full time. My liver was probably in shreds but that was what healing magic was for, and it had left me with the constitution of a Dwarven brawler when it came to alcohol.

Bishop was beginning to look a lot less like the One To Stay Away From as he spoke completely without reservation about all manner of things, and I was starting to see that under the razor sharp wit and disregard for all others, was an even spikier intelligence and brutal honesty. The others had either retired or were nursing drinks of their own to one side. I didn't see Casavir, but he had been strangely reclusive earlier. Well, perhaps not _strangely_ so...

It was getting late, and I realised we must have been talking for hours. He brought out a vulgar, viciously sarcastic side of me that I had been trying to push to one side in my quest to mature into someone that wasn't a shameless flirt with a barbed tongue. I was trying to grow up, and here he was reminding me that I didn't have to. Not tonight, anyway.

"Sounds about right. The Luskans don't seem to care about playing fair too much, but somehow I doubt she'd oblige, however keen she is for a little wanton destruction now and again." I leant one foot up against the table and rocked back on my chair.

"Trust me, that's the only language they'll understand. But you'll learn that soon enough," he leaned forward conspiratorially, "Although, if you did just want to skip this whole thing and stop yourself spending half your life traipsing through sewers as one of those '_adventurers'_...you and I could go and find a hidden trail somewhere and..._camp_, for a year or two." How he managed to inject so much suggestion in a single syllable I would never know. I couldn't tell if he was entirely serious or just winding me up. Neither would have surprised me.

"Is that an offer, Bishop?" I asked with a wicked smirk and raised eyebrow that almost mirrored his own. He shrugged.

"What if it was?" The curve of his lips would have been playful if I could imagine him as such. I noticed not for the first time the strong angle of his jaw and his shaggy, roguish good looks, crowned with narrowed hazel eyes that flickered down to the curve of my breasts none too subtly as he awaited a response. I recalled his teasing laughter from a few evenings before as we battled through the Githyanki caves and he kicked over the corpse of a Succubus, calling over to me '_Hey, she looks like you_,' in a tone heavy with implication. I'll admit there was a smidgen of resemblance between myself and the scarlet-haired, impossibly striking demoness, but I had simply glowered at him at the time. I could tell he'd seen right past it, though. I chuckled, grinning at him.

"A _year_ or two? You're not _that_ entrancing, ranger. Besides, not convinced you'd know what to do with me." I inspected my nails, feigning a lack of interest though I could feel his eyes on me like a predator. A youthfully rebellious part of me relished it. I pointedly ignored the look Duncan bored into the back of my skull.

"Not convinced? May have to win you over, then." I glanced up at him from under lowered eyelashes and took another gulp of my drink, remembering a little late that it was more akin to paint-stripper than mere ale.

"And how would you do that?"

"Oh, come now, Evelyn, talk of such things would upset the paladin, and we wouldn't want him sad, now, would we?" His voice was always so mocking, but in my current state I found it strangely hilarious. However much his digs at Casavir were grating on me, there was a truth to be found.

"He's got his faith to keep him warm. Or cold, by the looks of things." It was harsh, but it was true. The only passion I saw from him was in battle, and even when I tried to talk to him otherwise he was closed-off and formal. I wanted to know him better, but was it even worth the trouble if all he'd do was shut me out? Bishop snorted with laughter, dragging me back to the present.

"Oh you warm my heart, you really do," he said, grinning as he looked at me, "Love that in a woman. Mean and sharp-tongued. And a redhead...well, that's just a bonus." He winked bawdily. I could see the alcohol working its way through his thought process, just as I felt it hampering mine. He shrugged expansively and leaned back. "Ah well, paladin. You win some, you lose some."

"Oh really? You haven't won a thing, Bishop. I could drink you under the table, you know, so if that was part of your cunning plan then you're more than a little mistaken."

"Am I? Way I see it you haven't taken your eyes off me since we left this hole to find the girl."

"Judging by your reputation it's a good thing, too."

"How'd you figure that?"

"You haven't stabbed me in the throat yet. Does that mean I'm off to a good start?" He shrugged with his hands.

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"I wonder for how long." He didn't say anything, simply stared at me with lowered eyebrows and a faint smirk. I still couldn't tell what he was thinking. With a sigh, I downed the last of my drink and stood up, trying to push to one side the wave of inebriation that hit me and concentrated on walking in a straight enough line as to let no one else know. "Well, it's been a long day, and knowing my luck tomorrow will be even longer. I'm going to bed," I paused and looked back, scowling even though I was sure my eyes were alight with amusement, "And that's _not_ an invitation."

-+-+-+-+-

The second floor of the Sunken Flagon housed a small, perhaps even unintentional balcony at its rear, the edging of which was little more than two feet high and thrown together with left over roofing slate and bricks. It was there I sat now, casting my eyes over the city and contemplating my confused position in life. Barely a month since I had left the Well to follow her, and so much had changed. I wondered if Katriona would still follow, let alone love the man she would see when I returned. _If_ I returned. Was I still the honourable, driven knight I had always prided myself on being? I didn't know, and, perhaps more alarmingly, I found I didn't care that much. I had been swept up in a new cause, a new battle. In such a short time she had taught me so much. Even the Ranger we had picked up out of necessity...even he would not bother me so much, as long as he did not bother her, because now I trusted her judgement more than my own. I barely knew who I was anymore. I told myself that by serving her, by following her cause, I was acting for the greater good as I had always done. I was doing my duty. Was that even true? Without constant battle, there was nothing to fight but my own thoughts. The symbol of Tyr at the hilt of my blade glowed a pale blue in the moonlight. I didn't know.

"Hey there," her fluid, slightly accented voice was unusually chirpy. I turned to see her smiling as she walked forwards, a mane of wet hair thrown into a bun and her clothes fresh from being washed and pressed. She took in the scene and slowed. "I'm not disturbing you...am I?" I shook my head.

"No, my lady," I answered, adding, "I would be glad for the company, if you would give it." I had had enough of brooding for one night. I had barely spoken a word to her that wasn't about the task at hand, even though she had asked. It was so easy to speak to her, and that was what I was afraid of, in a way. I didn't want to reveal more than was wise, particularly about my past. I had changed since then, and although I had never quite found myself since, I wouldn't do the same to her. She knew what she was doing, or at least appeared to, and that was enough. She closed the distance, and sat next to me on the single wooden bench, her eyes wide as she took in the sea of lights that was Neverwinter from above. She had clearly recovered from a few nights before, where she'd waved a vague greeting on the way to her room even as she struggled to blink in unison. It was self-destructive and completely useless, but I tried to believe she knew what she was doing as she drank, if only to stop myself from interfering.

"It's so beautiful up here, isn't it? Living next to a swamp most of your life really puts things into perspective," she said with a wicked smirk. The same amused, mysterious, knowing smirk she always gave me. I didn't know what to say to her now that we were away from the others. So-called 'Paladin charm' was worth little now that there was nothing particularly pressing. Was she talking to me out of necessity or genuine interest? I tried to stop thinking about it.

"A swamp? Elanee seems to think of the Mere as more than that."

"Elanee? She's a thousand-year-old child," she wrinkled her nose, "Creeps me out a little, you know? Especially all that about her _watching_ me since I was a kid. Don't think I can deal with _that_ kind of attention from anyone. And she's _completely_ enthralled with her crusade to save her little marshland that I think she's forgotten what the real world is like. Think that's the trouble with some people. So caught up in an idea, a mission, even a God...that they just loose touch with what's really important. People try to fit themselves into these little boxes, to be what they think they should be...in the end we're all just people, and people are all different. When you just let yourself _be_, that's when you find a real purpose." I wondered with a jolt if she was talking about me. But it didn't sound pointed enough, just a generalisation about the state of the world in general. She seemed to do that a lot, saying one thing and then continuing on a tangent about something completely different. Hearing her talk was a glimpse into a strange, criss-crossing thought process. She was right, though. And I was beginning to believe her. For all her wisdom, the elf could...well...barely see the wood for the trees at time. And this woman, hundreds of years her junior was saying things from the top of her head that rang so true...and that I had never even considered before.

"There was this priest back in the Harbour," she went on. I was more than content to let her speak, as I had little to say myself while she always seemed to teem with anecdotes and remarks. "Brother Merring, his name was. He worshipped Lathander, and tried to convert like the world was ending." She laughed quietly, almost a giggle as she remembered her past. "Never got _me_, though, but that's another story. _Anyway_, something he said always stuck with me. 'Every day is a chance for a new beginning.' Pretty standard for a worshipper of the Dawn, but there's something to be said for it regardless. Life's too short to force yourself into something that's not right. A life, a faith, a cause, a marriage, people get so uppity about sticking to one thing, about seeing things through, that they forget about themselves and their own happiness. They forget that the only thing holding them back is themselves, and there's nothing stopping them from starting over." It was a blatant disregard for any notions of duty or perseverance, but the core of what she said still struck something within me. Her words were an uncanny echo of my own actions, and even as she spoke, completely oblivious, what I had done made a lot more sense. Perhaps I'd tell her after all, then. Just...not now. "But like I said, He wasn't for me. I prefer something a little less...constrained." I was fascinated now.

"Who, then? I can't imagine which God managed to capture your interest for long enough." She smirked at me again. That one look somehow managed to single me out and made me feel a lot more important than perhaps I was, in her eyes.

"Take a guess, Casavir." I tried to recall the endless list of deities, picking out which ones would fit her well enough. Mystra...no, she was no real magic user, just with some distant, uncontrollable sorcerer's blood that had made her shoot a pillar of fire at a particularly troublesome thug a while ago. She had lived in West Harbour, so...Chauntea? Impossible. She was hardly just another farm girl. I studied her amused expression, eyes almost grinning at me as she shook out her head of long, wet red hair that still danced around her face like fire... Realisation dawned. "Sune," she said simply, "And she's _not_ the Goddess of sex. That's what everyone says. Well, she's not _just_ the goddess of sex, anyway..." She chuckled, her cheeks turning a shade darker, but that was probably just due to the cold night air. The goddess of love...well it certainly seemed an appropriate choice.

"Tell me what she is, then," I smiled, genuinely interested to hear her take.

She beamed, tilting her head back and looking up at the scattering of stars that littered the heavens above.

"She is…everything that is good in the world, I suppose. I think so, anyway. There's always honour, loyalty, things like that, but Sune…she represents love, beauty, passion…what can life be without those things? How can anyone hope to believe in anything if their life is devoid of passion? And love, well, that just speaks for itself, I suppose. At least that's what I've gleaned from my very limited encounters with Sunite dogma. Though there's some pretty strange stuff in there too. After all, I'm no _cleric_, you understand. My devotion to her is hardly total, and I'm not about to believe the words of a Succubus just because she's beautiful…but her message just seems to…make the most sense… Most people...they don't love their faith, they barely believe it, they _mourn_ it. It's just there out of necessity," she turned to look at me.

"It's extraordinary that I've never really thought about it. In West Harbour we weren't much into suspicions or devout religion, but everyone had a god. We were all taught full well what happened to those without. I just chose mine and haven't looked back. You…you worship Tyr, right?" I nodded. "Justice…well perhaps if it's _truly_ just, then that is an even greater thing to strive for. Guess I've never considered it 'til you came along. It's so strange meeting all these new people, so far from home." She leant her feet on the edge of the roofing and rested her head on her knees, wrapping her arms around and seeming so small and almost childlike as she looked to the horizon.

" We always had merchants passing through, and it's not like I never travelled anywhere else, but…well, they were all the same people. Different names, different faces, but all farmers, militiamen, some fancying themselves bards...just clones of one another. And then I come here, and so far I've picked up a demon girl, an elf who seems to be permanently high on nature, a pyromaniac, and a dwarf on some bizarre mission to become everything he isn't…and then of course there's you, and _Bishop_" A roll of her eyes put me at ease a little, but it was more amused than offended. "I've known you all for such a short time. And yet I can't imagine returning to West Harbour. In truth, I'm beginning to grow rather fond of the group we've assembled." She smiled again, her cheeks rosy from the balmy night air. "I barely know what I'm doing anymore, even what I'm trying to accomplish. I don't know why it has to be me who set this thing right. All I do know is that it seems a lot more bearable with you and the others around," she shot a coy look in my direction, "Thank you."

"I am pleased to be here, as I'm sure the others are," I replied rather lamely, "It feels like I am making more of a difference here than I ever was in the other places I've fought. Serving Neverwinter again is indeed strange, but not entirely unwelcome if I answer to you and not just another nameless City Official." She smiled at me and nodded slowly, a wide, entirely genuine expression that set off the shallow dimples on her cheeks, her thick, rosebud lips looking more like an impish child's. There was always a sparkle in her misty ice-blue eyes, and this time they were warm and alive with laughter. Her skin was tanned from the years of working in a farming village, and the night air illuminated her face like a bronze statue. It made the scattering of freckles across her rounded nose and forehead less visible, but I could still make out the youth in her features, reminding me that she was still five, perhaps six years my junior. She glanced away at the clatter coming from the window below as what sounded like Khelgar fell over backwards in a struggle with his armour straps and laughed, looking back at me from under thick, dark lashes and twisting her lips into a self-satisfied smirk.

I wondered what Tyr thought of my abandonment of duty in Neverwinter, and my leaving my men in the Well. What was his policy on taking up with an entirely unknown group, leaving behind one's entire assembled force of troops, just because it felt right? I didn't know, but I also didn't expect any divine guidance. That had been…lacking, as of late, though I tried not to think on it and simply continued as I always had.

And then there was her…an ideal follower of Lady Firehair. Obviously fair, captivating, a natural presence that commanded loyalty, and yet she seemed so unaware of it all. I watched her as she dislodged the wet knots and tangles in her long red waves that hung over one shoulder with her fingers, humming an unrecognisable tune in a fluctuating pitch. She was older than she appeared, I could tell. Or at least her mind was. Her downcast eyes were still alight with the excitement of the new, though her smooth, unlined face had seen much more than perhaps it should have done.

But no, she may have been young but she wasn't naïve, and she knew full well the effect she could have on people. I witnessed her flash a smile, throw in a few fancy words and suddenly the imminent threat of death was gone. I saw the way she talked down the most vicious of brutes while never once blinking an eye. People gravitated towards her in a remarkable way. Whatever it was, it was beginning to work on me, I realised with a shock. Perhaps it already had. The prospect did not seem altogether unbearable. I heard a sharp groan from her and looked to see her angrily clawing through a particularly troublesome knot that had entangled itself around her fingers, her wavy hair in scattered, frizzy locks as it dried and clearly in no mood to behave. She sighed and looked almost amused for a moment.

"The trials of womanhood," She forced her hand out and began to twirl the entire mass of cherry-coloured hair together, "Long hair is stupidly impractical for my line of work, anyway. In fact I might as well forget being proper and just cut the damn stuff off." I reached over before I could stop myself and rested a hand at the base of the twist. She stopped and loosened her grip, sending the remains of the style spinning as it untwined.

"Please…don't." I protested, not knowing how else to defend my lack of control other than telling her the truth. Though the real truth was that I didn't know what had made me do it. I admired her, of course, how could I not have done? But that couldn't have been it. Of course I didn't think she was serious, in fact I don't remember thinking at all before I acted. It was uncharacteristically bold of me, but that was probably a good thing considering how frosty I was normally. I couldn't help it – it was the only way I knew how to be, and the only thing that kept me the devout of Tyr I was. But now...I wasn't on call to anyone but her, and although it was difficult to snap out of years of training, bowing and scraping, it was becoming easier. I was suddenly embarrassed at my own nerve but didn't want to apologise until I was sure I was in the wrong. I wasn't sure how she'd take it, mainly because I wasn't sure what I meant by it in the first place.

One of her hands travelled upwards, closer to mine as her eyes returned to meet my gaze. The moment seemed to last for hours though I knew it was only a few seconds. Her mouth opened slightly, with a slight curve to her lips as she spoke...

"Evelyn!" Came a shrill cry from inside the stairwell. She ignored it, but a second shout made her head snap up and her dark, curved eyebrows lower in anger. I quickly removed my hand and did my best to act nonchalant.

" Go _away_, Qara. I'm busy." I heard her foot tap against the floor, like it always did when she was annoyed. I wondered if it was because it was Qara, who she clearly had no love for, that had come or whether she was annoyed at the interruption in general.

"Oh yeah, _real_ busy," the sorceress rolled her eyes dramatically as she held open the doort "Off saving the world, as usual."

"What do you want?" She snapped.

"There's some guy downstairs in one of those bright blue cloaks. Says its important. I don't care, I've done my bit." She left without a second glance. The woman beside me sighed and wound her hair up again as she rose, fixing it in place with a leather band at the back of her head. Her vision met mine for a moment as she smiled faintly and murmured an "Excuse me" before following Qara. I was left once more to my thoughts.

-+-+-+-+-

"Yes?" I asked the room irritably. Two officers of the watch stood by the door. A tall, sandy-haired man stood talking to Duncan in hushed tones, his face grim. He looked up as I arrived and took a step forward.

"There you are." I recognised his distinctive uniform immediately and had a sudden sinking feeling.

"The Nine? What's your business with me?" I was fast getting tired of bowing to Neverwinter and seeing no real rewards or thanks. If this was just another opportunity to personally lick the dirt of the roads off the boot of some high-up noble I was inclined to tell him exactly where he could go.

"I am here because...well...you've been accused of murder. By Luskan." He studied my face with an expression that was deadly serious. "An entire village, they claim." My mouth fell open before I could stop it. This was getting too much. Why did they want me so bad to begin with? "Have you heard of or travelled through a place called Ember?" In a flash I remembered that hauntingly quiet village, that child's prophetic voice, and paled.

"Ember...yes. That tiny village close to Port Llast," The neutral, searching look in his eyes didn't change, "Why in the Hells would I want to hurt them? Why would _anyone_?"

"So you travelled through it?"

"Yes, I travelled through it, but I didn't slaughter it!" I seethed, growing more and more agitated, but not at him. His light brown eyes softened, and he looked pained.

"I believe you. I couldn't accept that someone with your reputation would do such a thing to begin with," he sighed deeply, "Listen, I've scraped things from my boot I respect more than the Luskans...but our hands are tied. Unless we find some way of proving your innocence..." He bit himself off and crossed his arms in anger. "There's this damn extradition treaty, and that means we'll have to surrender you to them...they have the right to serve what they call '_justice'_ for any crimes committed on their soil." There was a gasp from behind me. Neeshka was at my side in an instant.

"There's no way we're gonna let them take her! And if you think you're going to help them then you can just _try_ because..." she trailed off sadly. I turned and saw Casavir's hand on her shoulder, sending a pleading look in her direction before looking up at me. "It's just not fair," she spat.

"I know...everyone who knows the truth of this knows as well. That's why we're not going to turn over a loyal member of the Watch to some Luskan coward on this day or any other!" Perhaps being loyal to Neverwinter was starting to pay off after all.

"That's all well and good, and I'm thankful for your support, but...how am I supposed to prove I'm innocent?" I noticed the low, smouldering sound to one side rise in pitch, and realised it was none other than Khelgar's gravelly aggravation.

"Well, if we let the Luskans try you there'll be no question of your guilt. But...if you were a Lord, a Knight, even just a Squire...then things would be different. You'd have the right of High Justice, and that way your trial could take place here in Neverwinter. Before Lord Nasher himself." I was too tired for this. I wanted to go back and finish my conversation. I had been caught so completely off guard by him that my preconceptions about the paladin's character were shattered. For a moment I though I had spied a warmth in his eyes that hadn't been there before. He was always concerned, always caring, but there was a professionalism surrounding the whole thing that aggravated me, as it could have been for show. Now...I thought I saw the man behind the holy symbol...and I wanted to know more. I saw him from the corner of my eye, his face entirely sincere, eyes storming with the injustice of it all. At least he'd fight for me.

"Tell me what I have to do. There's no way in the hells I'm letting those Luskan bastards take me."

"Alright. I need you to go and see Sir Grayson, a trusted Knight of Lord Nasher, and become his squire." I failed to see the honour, but understood that it was the only way out of this mess short of fighting my way out of custody. "The case will still be tried, and if you cannot prove your innocence there...then you will face...execution." I heard a scoff from the back of the room and saw Bishop leaning back in a chair, his legs on the table in front of him.

"That's a nice way of putting it. More like they'll cut you into fours, whip you into a battered carcass, string you up by your ankles and parade you around the town while you're still breathing." He took another swig of his drink and shook his head. Nevalle ignored him.

"We must deal with what we can. See Sir Grayson at once and pledge yourself to Neverwinter's service. It will give us the time we need to counter the Luskan's accusation," he lowered his voice, "Do not try to leave the city until you have permission. If you do then we cannot protect you, and they will find you any way they can," he bowed politely, "Until we meet again," and was gone.

"I'll be damned before I see those Luskans get their filthy hands on you!" Khelgar grunted from somewhere around my waist. I appreciated the sentiment but couldn't help but think there was little he could do in this case.

"But...there's something we can do, at least. Luskan can't touch you as long as you do what Nevalle said..." Shandra's voice was strangely soothing, and her innocent concern was touching after everything she had endured because of me.

"I hope so...this whole thing just gives me a bad taste in my mouth. That they'd stoop so low..." I turned to Neeshka, who was beside herself with impotent rage.

"It's not fair! You're completely _innocent_! Slaughtering an entire village? That's insane, even by Luskan standards!"

"_Is_ it?" I heard Bishop's smooth, snide voice from the side and looked at him over my shoulder. "If you have something that Luskan wants, they'll cut down anything in their path to get it. They don't care who gets involved, or how innocent they are. Give them any excuse, and you'll find them beating down your door." He cocked his head at me. "Can't imagine what you've done to get them so pissed, though. They sure are going through a lot of trouble to get you killed..." I glanced down at my chest, the tip of the jagged line of slightly pinker skin just reaching above the low neckline of my top.

"Hey, boss, looks like someone's here." Sal said gruffly from the bar.

"Oh for-- What do _you_ want, Sand?" Duncan demanded, his accent thickening with his irritation.

"I'm here to _help_ you, Duncan. And your kin. I know, it's hard to believe, but hear me out. I seem to have been given...an ultimatum, I suppose you'd call it. I know of your troubles with the Luskans...and while I realise you may find my sincerity difficult to believe, you must allow me to act on your behalf." He took a step towards me and looked down, his face gravely serious for once. "There are laws that must be upheld, and there is right and wrong. While I understand you may...take _liberties_ with the law...I cannot conceive of your guilt in this manner." True enough, I supposed. I had never been one for rules but I knew what was right, and this sure as hell wasn't. "If they capture you, you will be killed. There is little question of this," he sighed, "People should answer for their crimes, but it must be just. I want to help you, and not just for my own sake. You must believe me." It wasn't just me that was affected, however.

"Well? What do the rest of you think?" I asked, turning around and massaging one temple. This was too much for what was supposed to be a quiet evening in. In fact, this was just _too much_ for any day. I felt like such a pawn, and that infuriated me. The one thing I couldn't stand was being out of control, and all of this...being there at just the right time, being the one with the shard, being forced to become a squire...well, I supposed it had to happen to _someone_, but why me? I normally had legendary luck in little things like card games, but now...my fate was out of my hands, it seemed. And luck wouldn't help me now.

"I...think we should give him the chance," Casavir spoke finally, but there was something different in his tone to before. The wall was up again. He was too damn respectable. "This is not a fight we can win with swords, and I for one worry for our chances if we do not take every advantage we can. Of course I will vouch for your innocence...as I'm sure everyone here will, but I'm not sure what it would be worth in court. Having Sand on our side could be our best hope." Qara snorted from the corner and took a long step forwards.

"Yeah, right, after all I don't think a common hedge wizard could make things any _worse_. Maybe all that time he spends digging through dusty old books will actually be _useful_ for once." I felt the retort burning on my tongue but Sand beat me to it.

"If we needed to burn down _another_ village, then perhaps we would call for you, Qara, but until then be _silent_. You are ignorant in these matters and in cases like this it will cause far more harm than good. If the masters of the towers decide they want you delivered to them, then--"

"So what?" Qara rolled her eyes, "Let them try!"

"If you're not going to say anything useful, then just be silent." I snapped at her. I didn't know why she aggravated me so much. I never suffered fools, and had little patience for anything, let alone unfounded arrogance, but I surely should have been more civil. Though I supposed it didn't matter if I lost the upcoming trial anyway.

"Whatever spark of magic you think you have, you _idiot_ girl, it will be nothing to give them notice. They will bleed it from you by demon, spell and curse until even your _daddy_ won't be able to save you." I had decided I liked _him_ after all. "I suspect that what they desire will have consequences far beyond you or I..." He trailed off ominously.

"What should we do, then?"

"Becoming a Squire will suit our needs well enough. After that comes the matter of the trial, which I believe I can help with considerably. Gather a group, and we'll head out. With myself included, of course. I have enough experience in these matters. And the thought of foiling Luskan plots, well..." There grew a wicked gleam in his eye. I grinned.

"You heard the man. Any volunteers?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Her face was what struck me first as we had turned the corner into Ember, that wrecked, silent town...Shandra had lapsed into a stunned silence almost immediately, but she...she was just angry. I heard her muttering under her breath as we scoured the place looking for clues, curses upon the creatures that had committed this crime and had the gall to blame it on her. That was what really did the most damage, I thought. There wasn't disgust or even sadness in her eyes as she stepped around the charred corpses that littered the earth like autumn leaves, some of them with their mouths hanging open in a final shriek or cry for help, some with their bodies cut clear in half. What could have done this?

As she sprinkled the last of the dust Nya had given us on the ravaged carcas of a woman, cut down apparently as she tried to flee, I saw the distress in her face. They were being refused rest, refused justice. She had kept brushing at herself as she moved through, the scent of charcoal and the charnel house still rank in the air. The upcoming trial, the accusation itself, the whole affair had hit her hard, anyone could have seen that. I hadn't had a chance to talk to her since the accusation. She had taken a few of us to the watch house as she was squired, and then the next day we left immediately for Ember. Barely a word was said between our group as we split up to find evidence, Shandra's eyes were wide with sorrow, and even Neeshka had not a word to say about what little riches remained among the houses.

I saw her speaking with Bishop earlier as we gathered up the evidence to depart. He had shaken his head and said something to her to which she turned and angrily rebuked. To my surprise, there was no retort on his side, no snide comment, just a thoughtful silence.

We were a while away, now, and the sun was just lowering over the surrounding trees. She hadn't wanted to press onto Port Llast tonight, as we were hardly welcome there, so we made camp halfway between the two areas. Shandra and Neeshka were finishing setting up the last of the tents as Sand stood to one side, apparently recalling a fire spell but more obviously waiting until the menial labour was over with. Bishop was nowhere to be seen, but that was hardly uncommon. She lay down her pack and rummaged inside, pulling out some blankets and supplies before retrieving a bone comb, delicately painted with azure flowers, as she removed the bands of cloth that held her hair in piece and shook it out. Or at least tried to. After several attempts her matted hair had barely moved from its original position, clotted with the dirt of the road. She sighed expansively and irritably, looking up only to meet my eyes. I didn't know whether I should have been amused or embarrassed, but she dissipated any of those thoughts as she smiled wryly and got to her feet.

"I need a bath."

-+-+-+-+-

I heard her even before she stepped into the grove, tiny and shielded by a thicket of trees but still managing to house a surprisingly deep pool. She made no attempt to hide her presence to anyone, in a strangely overconfident manner. But then, her mind was somewhere else completely. As she moved out of the shadows and into what little clear there was I saw she had stripped away the outer layers of her leather armour and replaced the fitted blouse she wore beneath with a longer, thinner shift, carrying a wicker basket on one hip. I noticed the hilt of her sword peeking out from under the cloth haphazardly thrown over the top.

How had she found this place if she'd never truly been in Luskan territory? I'd heard Duncan and her talking about that father she had back in West Harbour, and if he was supposed to be a tracker and a hunter she should have had no trouble finding her way here. That is, if she'd concentrate on one thing long enough to learn. I couldn't imagine it. But that hardly mattered, she was here now, and by the looks of it was planning on bathing before we headed back to Port Llast. Seemed like this was my lucky day, then.

Grinning, I made myself more comfortable, careful not to draw her attention. Any idiot could have discerned the combat-toned body beneath her thick armour, but I took this as my chance to make sure it wasn't completely covered in scales or wolf hair. She drew closer to the water's edge and placed the basket in the shallows, taking off her weathered breeches and boots and placing them in before wading deeper; towing it behind her as it bobbed along the ripples she created. She lifted the skirt of her already skimpy garment from the water until it lapped against her thighs, before reaching down and pulling it off completely, depositing it in the basket as she made her way deeper.

I cursed inwardly. She was bold but not entirely stupid. A tight undergarment that curved low on her hips and high on her thighs was just large enough that her modesty was left mostly intact. She waded through the water, her back mainly to me, until it covered her legs and then submerged herself, reappearing moments later in a notably undramatic fashion with her red hair saturated and dripping down to the middle of her back. She turned around to look through the basket and the smirk twisted my lips again. Her body seemed perfectly sculpted by years of sword battles and the blessings of youth, from my angle, every limb glistening with a sheen of water. As she straightened and began to lather her long mane of hair with a strangely coloured soap she provided me with a seamless view of her breasts, perfectly round, each a decent handful, and with rosy pink nipples hardened from the cold. This was clearly no Harbourman - such impeccable breeding yielding results like this was not such a strong point of theirs. I never had found out exactly where she hailed from, or what her heritage was. A half-breed, no doubt about that, but half what? She was too built to be of mostly elven descent, but what else could there be?

She was still completely oblivious to my presence, or at least acted like it. I wondered what she would do if she knew. I chuckled. Probably nothing. For all her posturing and declarations of duty to the imbeciles at Neverwinter I knew she was just another woman, and women always wanted the same thing. She wasn't cut out for a life of servitude any more than I was. I saw it in her as she bowed and scraped to those ranking higher through gritted teeth, moving ever closer to her goal.

This wasn't the life she wanted, always bowing to the law and the nobles. Something told me she wouldn't let it happen, either. She was good at getting her own way.

She retrieved a dark blue cloth from her the pile beside her and unabashedly began to scrub away the dirt of the road clinging to her body like a cat licking itself. It was a strangely mesmerising sight after a lack of decent female companionship for far, _far_ too long. I had never tried to understand women beyond the base desires that ultimately ruled all creatures, and I had no intention of doing so. But she was fascinating still. I caught myself wondering what she was thinking behind those eyes, always icy cold yet storming with passion.

After a while she waded back to the shore and dried herself off before haphazardly throwing the shift over her head, still humming a tune as she walked back in the direction of the camp, basket once again balanced on her hip. The sun was steadily getting lower behind the horizon of trees. I needed to get back. Shifting position, I dropped down to the floor of the wood, barely making a sound, and started to head back. It wasn't long before the evening took a revolting turn for the worst.

"Bishop?" He asked, clearly confused as he caught sight of me.

"Lost, paladin?" The last thing I needed or wanted was a lecture from a follower of Tyr. He was useful enough in battle, I'd give him that, but there was no world in which the two of us would have chosen the company of the other.

"What are you doing here?" He asked incredulously. I almost laughed.

"Talking to trees like every good ranger," I scoffed, "What's your excuse?"

"You were gone, so she sent me to scout the area before she left to…" He was looking around, and his eyes fell on the direct path of vision through the trees to the glade where she had been not so long ago. "You…" I rolled my eyes at him, "...were you _watching_?" There was disbelief laced through his voice, with just a trace of what their kind called 'righteous anger'. I shrugged indifferently.

"I was there first, you know. But hey, I never say no to a free show. Hells, I'd have _paid_ to see that." I smirked, not caring if he hated me more than he did or what the others thought of me. Though I doubted he'd have the guts to tell her anyway. His eyes burnt with fury and yet somehow he didn't lunge at me. Pathetic.

"You make me sick."

"I don't give a damn what you think. Besides, what are you going to do, holy man? Tell her?" He said nothing. "Wouldn't bother me, she probably knew." He bristled. I prodded him further. "Hells, she probably liked it. From the looks of her it's been a while since she's seen a _real_ man…" I watched as he grimaced, repressing his instinct to mortally wound me. This was proving to be far more entertainment than I had imagined.

"Don't, Bishop. Mock me all you wish but do _not_ mock her." His jaw would have broken if he held it any tighter, I thought.

"Oh, was that a soft spot? She's not as _virtuous_ as you think, you know. Try letting her defend _herself_ for once and see what happens."

"She wouldn't, because she doesn't _know_ who you are. _What_ you are."

"See, I think she does. And I think that's what gets you so riled up. That she doesn't care." He didn't say anything. I could tell I had hit another nerve. "You're too easy, Paladin," I laughed, walking past him. He was such a fool if he thought a woman like her would fall for the courtly knight routine that most found ridiculous anyway. Still with a smirk on my face I headed back to camp.

-+-+-+-+-

The group had been strangely quiet as we made our way back to civilisation. Even Neeshka and Khelgar kept their qualms to themselves, the only sound coming from my low conversation with Sand as we worked more on my defence. Now, we were back in Port Llast for an hour or two while we gathered supplies and the mood had hardly improved. After having several _interesting_ words with the patrons, I sank into a wooden chair gratefully, the last week leaving me completely drained, and motioned over a drink. I saw the others dispersing around the dingy building thick with smoke and the stench of the townsfolk, but hardly noticed. My head was still swimming with questions that had no answers, or none that I knew of anyway. How in the hells did I end up here?

I took a long draught from my mug and made a mental list of all the things we needed before we left. By the time I reached 'lockpicks' as a last resort if I lost the trial, I felt someone watching me. I glanced up to see Casavir making his way over uneasily but still with purpose, cocking my head to one side as he sat down opposite me.

"Wow, looks like you're on the warpath," I grinned to offset the gloom in the air, "You ok?" He hesitated before speaking, and when he did they were the carefully chosen words of someone trying to be extremely diplomatic. Damn paladins.

"It concerns that man we have picked up...Bishop."

"What about him? You two have another cat fight?" I winked, instantly feeling foolish as his expression was anything but light-hearted. It wasn't stern, but did remind me in a strange fashion of Daeghun's glower as I tripped over the threshold while the sun climbed over the horizon, smelling of fresh hay, romance and the morning's dew. He'd always made me feel like such a child, no matter how old I was. Though I supposed I'd always be a child to him.

"I...I do not trust him, and you should not either. I do not like the way he looks at you and the way he treats you as if you were any other woman and not his leader." It wasn't surprising in itself, but I was still a little startled that he decided to speak directly to me instead of chiding Bishop like he normally did. Though I was sure he was smart enough to see that that would get him nowhere fast.

"You sound just like Duncan, you know? It's nice to know you're looking out for me, but it's not necessary."

"Just watch yourself, my lady. He is manipulative, and he is dangerous. It is just concern, no more. I felt compelled to warn you."

"You really mustn't let him get to you so much, Casavir," I shook my head, smiling, "After all, I don't"

"With all due respect, my lady, I...I cannot help but think that you give him more credit than he deserves. He is...not a good man."

"He's not like you, you mean," I corrected. Casavir furrowed his brow and regarded me curiously but I was sure he knew exactly what I meant. "Look, if it'll make you feel any better, I trust _you_ with my life. With Bishop, for anything beyond his own survival, I wouldn't trust him farther than I could throw him. But he's the best tracker around and… well… whatever his motivations even you can't deny he's been damn useful," I put a hand on his arm to calm him somewhat, "Don't worry about me. I...I know what he's about."

"You don't seem to care, though." He replied, surprisingly forceful. He must have really meant it, though it was hard to tell at times as his expressions didn't generally have that much range except for when we were in battle.

"It doesn't matter. I'm not nearly as naive or as in need of protection as you seem to think I am." It was true. In fact, it felt to me like it was more the other way around, what with his misguided compulsion to defend my honour. At times his concern was more than was strictly necessary for just a fellow adventurer. I knew he treated me differently because I was a woman, and in a way I appreciated the fact that chivalry was still alive and well, but I was sick of people fawning over me just because I was a pretty girl. I gave respect to people that deserved it and wanted the same treatment from others. A younger me would have laughed at this idea, quite content to leave the smitten village boys to fetch my firewood and fall over themselves to escort me to events, but that wasn't me anymore. I wanted respect because of who I was and what I had done, and not for anything else. But he wasn't part of the usual breed of deep-as-a-puddle men that I usually came across, and somehow I knew I could trust him to judge me on _who_, not _what_ I was.

"I don't think that. I'm just...concerned. About him, and about you." Was he jealous? It was almost unthinkable from the perpetually calm Paladin. I decided to take it at face value, though, and just listen to what he was saying.

"Don't worry. I do appreciate your concern, but it's not needed, really. I can take care of myself." I couldn't resist a smirk. "It's a wonder my honour's survived all this time without you here to guard it." He coloured slightly, and before he glanced away from me there was a glimpse of the man I'd seen that one night at the Flagon.

"I mean no disrespect, my lady. It just...galls me to see him speak of you as he does. You...are a remarkable individual. And I've travelled with you long enough to know you have a good heart and strong resolve. To hear him insult and degrade you, and you do nothing...it baffles me." I smiled despite myself but quickly reigned it in to objectively assess the situation. This needed to be settled. I couldn't have the two of them constantly at each other's throats, however amusing it was at first.

"Ignore him. He's only out to goad you, and as long as you fight back he'll continue to do so." It was the same advice I'd given to Lisbeth, Bevil's little sister, when she was being bullied by one of the younger Mossfelds. It still seemed strangely appropriate. I took one of his hands between mine and smiled across the table at him. "Let...let me fight my own battles. And let me deal with him." He looked down at my fingers and sighed.

"I...will try. Thank you for hearing me out, anyway." I grinned at him and winked playfully.

"You're very welcome. Didn't realise you cared."

"Oh...I..." He was suddenly flustered for some reason, and churned out something they probably taught him in Paladin school to calm down enraged harpy-women. "Forgive me...it is not my affair how you conduct yourself. I only felt...compelled to warn you." Quickly, almost regretfully he removed his hand and stood up, walking away from me.

Well what the hells was that? I was wondering if I'd ever know about him or his motivations. He was so secretive at the best of times. I'd tried to break him out of whatever mould it was he'd been forced into as a Paladin but now he still only spoke to me about important, relevant matters, when in truth I wanted to talk about anything but the task at hand. I wrapped my hands around my chipped, brown mug and gazed into the bubbles for some kind of answer. Nothing came.

"Excuse me...Evelyn, was it?" I felt a hand on my shoulder and saw my quiet hour's rest evaporate before my eyes. I glanced up to the cool, brown eyes of Malin, the ranger I'd asked about the Duskwood. I raised my eyebrows expectantly, which she apparently took as an open invitation to sit on the stool to one side and lean in closer, biting her thick, pink lips. "I'm sorry, but, well...I couldn't help but overhear. That man you were talking about, Bishop, is he a ranger? Dark hair, dark eyes, black sense of humour?" The last part made me smirk a little but I nodded anyway, noticing for the first time that the man himself wasn't anywhere to be seen. He was always disappearing off somewhere.

"That's right, you know him?" Her jaw clenched in anger.

"_Knew_ him." That single word said more than any variation on 'loathe' could have done. "And I'm happy to have left him in my past but...I couldn't _not_ talk to you if he's travelling with you now." She shook her head, slanted eyes downcast. She was clearly halfelven at least, but couldn't have been that much older than me in maturity. There was a vacant quality about her large, glassy stare that was only really made up for by her clearly attractive face and slender figure.

"What, you're going to warn me about him too? Because if that's it you really needn't bother – I know what he's like, I've met men like him before." Not strictly true, as I doubted another like Bishop existed, but it was close enough. She regarded me curiously for a few moments before sighing.

"First of all, I have a question for you – why _is_ he travelling with you? Gods know he's not big on loyalty, and he doesn't just 'help' _anyone_." From her tone it was clear she expected an answer somewhere along the lines of blackmail or sexual favours. I shrugged noncommittally, trying not to involve myself in the conversation too much. I hated people warning me about stupid things. It wasn't like I was about to jump into bed with him any time soon, so what was all the fuss about?

"We needed him to get us through the Luskan border, and he's sort of just stuck around. Can't say I mind, though, after all he's damn good at what he does."

"Of course...Luskans." She nodded slowly. "Bishop hates them with a passion. To be honest it's the only real emotion I've seen from him." Her eyes grew wide and haunted. "The things he did...the way he treated them at the border...after that I couldn't travel with him anymore. Not after I saw what he was." She shivered, but I couldn't really take her seriously. He was a right bastard at times but surely she was just being fainthearted. After all, considering what I'd gone through because of them I wasn't sure I'd be too civil either. "But you're right, he's a good tracker. Just...don't turn your back on him, all right? I mean, don't let him out of your sight because you'll regret it."

"He's gone right now, but I'm pretty sure he'll be back. Look, I know he's not to everyone's tastes but he's really not that bad. He's got no reason to screw us over like that anyway." I took another swig of my drink, looking back at her to see...sympathy? I didn't need that from anyone, especially not from some dejected, interfering ranger girl.

"Defend him all you want, but you'll only drive him away in the end...he hates being in anyone's debt," she said ominously.

"He's not in my debt, and he knows that. He does his job and I pay him, just like everybody else. And just like them he's free to go whenever he wants. Besides, whatever you think of him I'm willing to give him a chance – just like I would anyone," I said firmly.

"You don't understand...just by saying that he's already got to you," she shook her head sadly, as if I was a dying puppy or something. I rolled my eyes in response. "And then when he's finished with you...just be more careful than I was. He serves no one but himself, that's just who he is..." She took a breath to continue but bit it off quickly as the door to the tavern opened and Bishop himself stalked in dourly. Quickly, she rose, shooting me one last sad look before hurrying off, clearly not wanting a confrontation. I stared after her even as Bishop came up to me, glancing to Malin before gesturing for a tankard and sitting opposite me.

"So she's still here, eh? Wondered when she'd show up, stupid girl. Still playing at being a ranger?"

"Who is she?"

"Just a half-blood scout who couldn't find north with a compass in each hand," he said slyly, "And yeah, she's almost gotten me killed before. Why the sudden interest?" He added with a raised eyebrow and knowing smirk. I shrugged, leaning back.

"Curious. Wondering what you did to make her hate you so much." His smile faded a little, and was replaced by a cool, calculating stare. There were a few flecks of amber scattered around the deep mahogany of his eyes. "Though she did tell me you'd done some pretty horrible things. That why you came with us? To kill some Luskans?" I asked casually. He was silent for a long moment.

"So what if I have?"

"Not sure. Seems to me if they've pissed you off enough they probably deserve it. From what I've seen of them they definitely do."

"Well, now, glad someone's willing to admit it. For more than that I'm sure you can forgive me if I spare you the details. Don't like to engage in idle talk about my past. Just not my style."

"What _did_ happen between you two?" I asked finally, hoping he'd give me that at least.

"What do _you_ think?" He replied with a smirk heavy with suggestion, "I'm not about to paint it up as something it's not. She travelled with me for a while but...well, after a time you start to see the person for who they are, and then you don't respect them. When that happens, you leave, simple at that."

"Is that what you're going to do to me?" I already knew the answer.

"If I lose respect in you you'd better believe it." He downed the last of his drink and stood up, striding out of my eye line as I sat thinking about what he'd just said. He couldn't lose respect for me if there wasn't at least a scrap of it in the first place. That was something, at least.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

"This is _mindless_!" I exclaimed through gritted teeth. A trial by combat was the last resort of the Luskans, and I was livid. "Justice has _already_ been served today, and I have been found innocent." I gestured madly at the holy symbol of Tyr emblazoned on the wall on the courtroom teeming with chattering citizens and tiled with colours that made it resemble a spa more than a courthouse. I was through with being restrained and mature about this. I'd already won the support of the people and now this pointless mockery of an accusation was being drawn out even further. I was so furious I could feel myself shaking, the words I said tumbling out of my mouth with little input from my brain as I felt the blood rushing to my face. "Why do you persist? If the gods know the truth now, they will know it tomorrow. This is _completely_ pointless." They barely heard me, and Torio was just waiting for her turn to speak. I hated that.

"If you have been found innocent it is because justice has not yet been carried out!" the ambassador hissed back. I really, really didn't like her. The skirt she was wearing made me dizzy. Casavir's words came back to me as he commented that she was little more than a harpy too blinded by arrogance and wealth to see past her own deeds. That had made me laugh, even as I was led into the courtroom. He was here now, I had seen his faint smile as they announced the verdict and then his angry shock barely reigned in as Torio announced her plan.

"You're a damn fool. Continuing this when I'm _quite_ clearly innocent of these charges is hardly _just_ and you know it! This is a farce." Sand gripped my arm and led me backwards tactfully, muttering something about showing a little restraint for the love of some deity or another but I pulled it back and glared at her squarely. "I've killed all the assassins, all the lackeys you've sent after me, Torio. What makes you think _you've_ got a chance?"

"Aye, Torio!" Nevalle stepped forward and looked at me encouragingly, his sandy blonde hair neatly arranged in keeping with his formal uniform. I could hear the smugness in his tone that probably wasn't so fitting for a knight, but then he must have hated her even more than I. "This is no battle with words, and you have already shown us your trickery there. Although I admit it _would_ be interesting to see you try to match your wit against the blade of a true soldier of Neverwinter." He nodded at me proudly as if I were that damn prize pig Orlen claimed to have raised from birth. A flash of annoyance shot through me but it was fleeting compared to the frustration I felt at being able to do nothing without breaking some ancient, sacred code or another. These nobles and their _laws_…

"Oh, indeed, you are correct, Sir Nevalle," Torio gushed. She was unbelievable. Still trying to win them over though the trial had passed. She placed a hand over her chest like she was a fluttering maiden caught in a swoon, though her eyes were still the colour and hardness of a pebble. "Luskan is not the aggressor here, and I only wish to see justice done." She was one hell of an actress, I'd give her that, but this wasn't a bloody stage anymore.

"It has _been_ done!" I gritted out.

"I am utterly defenceless to seek justice in this matter... is there not one who will champion the people of Ember?" It was all such a charade, and only served to make me angrier. No doubt they'd have some great Luskan brute conveniently stashed around the corner in case she lost against me. I rubbed at my temples. This was all far, far too much. I saw Shandra's hand gripping the edge of the stand in irritation, reminding me exactly how much time we were wasting on this pointless little exercise. There was something so much bigger than this that I had to deal with, and if it weren't for this trial I might have found out what in the hells it was by now.

"_I_ will." Came the angry, guttural grunt from the entrance that was strangely familiar. Sudden recognition sent a shock through me and as I watched him enter the courtroom, his eyes fixed on me in a gaze of seething hatred, I felt part of my resolve strip away. Gone was the teenager that left West Harbour so many years ago. He was built like a brick wall, and hot air steamed out of his nose like a bull. His tattooed head pulsed with thick, purple veins that throbbed as he gritted his teeth at me, gripping the huge, curved weapon at his side as a way to subdue his anger. What had I done to enrage him so?

"Sending others to do your dirty work, eh?" I grinned at Torio, "Not surprised. Figured you'd send someone who knew how to spell his own _name_, though I hear your taste in lovers isn't exactly orthodox…" I couldn't let them see my thoughts, and I couldn't let him know that I cared, even as I turned to smirk at him mockingly. The one thing I knew would be at my advantage was that he had never had a very long fuse, and I was always brilliant at angering people. I could almost feel the steam rising off the top of his bald head as he fumed, fighting to keep himself in check. I tried to push what I remembered of him to one side, and, surprisingly, it worked. It was as if part of me still hadn't realised that this was the man I'd be fighting to the death tomorrow. Well, I sure as hells wasn't going to be the one carted away in pieces after that whole bloody show I'd put on for the jury. Even Sand had been sniggering during parts, clearly seeing through my dressed-up testimonies in a way the commoners evidently didn't.

"Enough!" She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. I could see her distain, but she kept it tightly schooled. "You will answer for your crimes tomorrow, _Squire_ Ashcroft. Until then enjoy the scrutiny of the Gods. Come." With a flourish of her skirt she left, Lorne taking one last look at me but not uttering a word lest he say too much. Did he even recognise me? Perhaps part of him did, but…he wasn't the same man that had left. Whatever they had done to him, he had changed beyond recognition. His mother had been mine in all but name, and he'd never have turned on me before. This whole thing…it was grating on me far more than I'd have wanted to admit. But there was little more that could be done tonight, I realised as I was told that I would have to stand vigil yet again at a temple, almost as if they wanted me to lose on the morrow by depriving me of sleep. With an angry sigh to the heavens I stalked off, flanked by the nameless, faceless guards that were to escort me to the temple.

-+-+-+-+-

I sat cross-legged before the majestic statue of Tyr that now towered above me, a solemnity overtaking my mood as I found myself staring intently at the stone pupils above. Tyr, the god of Justice. I did not know how to pray to one like him. A simple thanks to my Goddess was all I ever gave in worship as I did her 'bidding', and dwarfed below his powerful presence I felt like nothing. But I didn't feel alone. There was a something in this place, something that put me at ease. Justice would be done tomorrow. I knew it. I would regret having to kill Lorne, but it had to be done. We all made sacrifices to get this far.

I would tell Retta he died fighting nobly. I hugged my knees to me and rested my head on the top, closing my eyes in thought as I found myself unable to pray. I did not feel I had to, in any case. He would see my name cleared once and for all. It was a wretched unfairness that it was blackened in the first place. To slaughter an entire village for no reason other than to get to me. I felt goose bumps rise on my legs with the fresh wave of irritation that came over me.

'_Let justice be exacted tomorrow. Let the Luskan traitors pay for their crimes against humanity.'_

That was the only thing I could offer to the heavens, and I let my thoughts drift up to whichever God deigned to hear them. I sincerely hoped it was one that liked to cast down bolts of lightning on the enemies of the faithful.

I heard his unusually quiet footsteps on the stone before I felt him enter. He was silent for a moment, perhaps wondering whether he should stay or go.

"Something you want?" I asked, surprisingly perky considering how late it was.

"For…forgive me, my lady. I did not mean to disturb the Rites," he said, walking forward slowly, his armour mostly removed so he didn't echo around the cavernous temple. Why did they always have such high ceilings, I wondered? Perhaps they were worried that their God might materialise and of course their avatar couldn't possibly be just human-sized. I leant back on my hands and turned my head to see him pausing uncertainly. He needed to learn to stop apologising to me.

"You're not disturbing me, Casavir. I was wondering when you'd show up, you know. It's your god I'm counting on tomorrow after all."

"Yes…but you need not worry about that. I am confident he will support you entirely like I do. Like we all do." I smiled and jerked my head to one side in a signal for him to come closer. He obliged, and sat to one side of me on the unnecessarily uncomfortable wooden bench, looking up at the grand statue.

"So, come to keep me company?" I asked a little playfully, though in truth I was vastly grateful for someone to talk to. It stopped me thinking too deeply of the next day and what it would bring.

"Yes. I…was a troubled. About your fight tomorrow. When we are in a group I can help you if you are in need, but in a solo fight to the death with a Luskan Berserker…" There was an uncertain pause, "…Understand that I trust you and your abilities completely, but cannot help being concerned," he said gravely.

"He's not Luskan," I muttered, looking down. His brow knotted in confusion. "He may live there now, and they are whom he serves, but he is not Luskan. Quite the opposite, in fact. Lorne was born and raised in West Harbour." Shock clearly registered on his face. I didn't blame him, as it hardly looked like we were cut from the same cloth. "His family was like the one I never really had, but he would never have remained there for any great amount of time. He left many years ago during the war, and now…I barely recognised him when I saw him today, though he's still the same brute."

"You…you do know him, then?" His brow furrowed, and for the first time I noticed that for a Paladin of Tyr he was surprisingly uncomfortable here in the temple, which should have been his element, or so I thought. And then it hit me. He'd left Neverwinter's service for a reason not yet disclosed to me, probably because it wasn't under the most honourable circumstances in his eyes. This was probably where he'd taken his oaths, and the place he left behind. What it must have taken for him to come here now… I snapped back to reality and nodded.

"Aye, that I do. Or _did_, anyway. I don't know what he's become, though I should hardly be surprised as he was never much of a man in the first place. No honour, hardly a conscience to speak of…his mother loved him dearly despite it all but I doubt he even noticed. He was never going to be more than a plaything for the highest bidder after he left the war, completely jaded because he was never allowed the opportunity to fight and prove his worth, or at least that's what Retta, his mother, told me from his letters. That's all he cared about, sometimes. Proving himself to others and belittling them at the same time. Ending his life will be…regrettable, but necessary. Hopefully this way his spirit can find some measure of peace, and his mother can remember him as she always saw him, not the traitor he's become."

"I…admire your perseverance." He'd gone quiet again, but there was a whirlwind of thought behind his stormy eyes which I wished he'd let me in on.

"Not like I have much of a choice in the matter, anyhow. He's who Torio chose. Probably because she knew of our connections. His mother…I told her I'd find out what happened to him. And I'll be the one to kill him." The irony was hideous. I wasn't sure I could face Retta again, having her ask if I'd had news of her son and my only reply could be that I'd been the one to end his life. After all this was finished, anyway. I could think of it then.

"If you wish, I can fight him for you. Should I be defeated you can still have a chance to escape before Luskan takes you. And I should think it would be easier than you having to kill him, given your history," he said with a little difficulty, though no reluctance. I couldn't help but smile at his devotion to my cause, even though it seemed unfounded, but I knew what I had to do.

"No, it's my battle. However unsavoury the circumstances, I've never backed down from a fight before and I won't do so now," I caught him before he could object, "I don't mean it's simple stubbornness that makes me want to fight him. I guess...I just have to see for myself what he's become. When I see his mother again I can tell her he fought bravely for what he believed in, though I can't help but think him incapable of believing in much of anything." There was silence as I looked back up at the statue. I could tell he didn't know what to say to me that would be of any comfort. But comfort wasn't what I needed now, I just needed help. "Enough of that. I need to focus on how to beat him. I was never a match for him back home, though I was _much_ younger then. But looking at him...even now I think I'll need a little help." I glanced back to him, seeing him relax.

"Yes, I thought you might. I came here to help with advice if nothing else. Do you know anything about the etiquette of the duel? The trial adheres to the same rules as knightly combat, and I imagine I probably know something more of it than your opponent." There was a twinkle of amusement there that my hopes soared to see.

"Of that I have no doubt," I smirked, "But no, I don't know much about duels. Never had to worry much about rules in fights up until now aside from which side of the sword to hold, but if it can help me then sure, tell me what you know."

"First and foremost, do _not_ yield to Lorne." His voice became more commanding. He was used to instructing troops, and with that came confidence. I suspected he was less used to casual conversation with women. His shyness in stark contrast to his aura of power and chiselled good looks was even a little endearing. "I do not believe you would anyway, but just know that if there is any chance you can still win, you _must_ keep fighting. He will not accept surrender, as you probably already know, and you must not accept it from him if he chooses to do so. However dishonourable it may feel, it is a duel to the death, and any goodwill you may harbour towards him will be for nothing. Even if he is on his knees, you must finish him." I swallowed, hating what tomorrow would bring. I despised Lorne for what he did, leaving his home and turning against his own, ready to fight for traitors and warmongering fools, but in the back of my mind I still saw Bevil's older brother as he let me explore his collection of weapons so long ago, the man that was missed dearly by his family, and the traitor I would kill on the morrow.

"I understand," I said simply. For once it was true, no matter how many times I'd claimed it to get my father off my case when I didn't feel like archery practice and how it would all fall through my mind like a sieve. There was sympathy in his oceanic blue eyes as he stared levelly at me, as if he knew what I was thinking.

"Any advantage you have, you must make use of. Each combatant must fight to the best of their ability, using everything at their disposal. So any weapons, spells, trinkets, anything. Forget about fairness, the whole trial is a joke," he looked to one side and grit his teeth in an uncharacteristic display of disgust, especially for common procedure. "It was unjust to begin with." Ah, so he _was_ something more than a blind follower of laws. It was comforting to know at least one of us had a sound head on our shoulders. You _must_ defeat him tomorrow." Something about his tone told me he wasn't as concerned about our cause as he was about my survival. He was too good to be travelling with someone like me. I smirked.

"Sand and Neeshka were already here. She even offered to sabotage his stuff for me. And Khelgar earlier wasn't a bit happy about the outcome...but I guess it can't be helped. And thank you for your faith in me." He gave a small smile, the almost unnoticeably brief confusion telling me he didn't realise anyone else had been. "Anything else I should know?" I asked quickly.

"Lorne carries a large blade, not dissimilar to yours. As such, his strength is in close combat, as I doubt he has the capacity for spellcraft as you seem to." Capacity, yes, talent, no. "If you can, keep him beyond arm's reach. He is much larger than you, and certainly with much more physical strength. If you must approach him directly you will have to rely on your skill alone. That I have great faith in, but still...be careful." There was a warmth and a concern in his eyes I rarely saw. I wish I could get to know who he was behind the layer of duty-bound propriety.

"I will...I promise. There's no way I'm letting him get the better of me. He was always a brutish fighter, and a little slow at times. I'll be fine." He nodded and made to rise, but stopped, a thought churning in his head.

"If...if you decide you do not wish to face him - and there is no dishonour in that - then just know that I will gladly serve in your stead. I offer my blade to you. As your champion." The air was thick with something I could not quite place. "If you would permit it, of course," he added quickly. "The choice is yours."

"Thank you, Casavir," I smiled faintly, drawing his eyes upwards from where they had been cast down, "But...this is something I have to do on my own. It's important to me. I can't say why, mainly because I do not know, but I have to fight him. I have to...put my feelings behind me. He's not the lad I once knew, he left when I was just a girl, not even of age. I'll fight, and I'll win. For the good of us all."

"Very well..." There was a tension in his voice, from worry or frustration I couldn't tell. "I can do no more to help you, then." He looked distressed at the thought. "If there was anything...a chance to train before the battle...I would. But there is no time." He clenched his jaw in irritation, but realisation suddenly dawned on him and he reached into a side pocket and retrieved something wrapped in a dark blue cloth. "This...was given to me. A long time ago. I need it no longer, not while you must fight alone." He handed it to me and I unravelled it, revealing a gleaming metal flask running with inscriptions. "Make use of it tomorrow, and its purpose will have been fulfilled. It is a ritual flask, and will heal you should you need it tomorrow. I will pray that the Gods give you good fortune also, but use this in case not. There is no one I'd rather it save," he was entirely sincere, though I couldn't see why. I was hardly worthy material. I looked down at the flask, noticing how the symbol of Tyr was carefully picked out in carvings on the front. It hit me how important this must have been to him, and how much it must have meant for him to give it up to anyone, let alone someone like me. On impulse, I leant over and kissed him on the cheek, half out of not knowing how to thank him properly, half out of curiosity about his reaction. I wasn't disappointed, though a chiding thought reminded me that I needed to stop playing around with people. His head whipped up and he looked at me questioningly, but, I was glad to notice, without rebuke. I saw his hand twitch but he managed to stop it from flying to his cheek. Playfully, I grinned back.

"Thank you."

"I...it is nothing, my lady." The sides of his lips curled upwards briefly, his cheeks colouring ever so slightly. Had he ever actually called me by my name? He called the others as I did, so why was I the exception? "You will see justice for Lorne and Torio tomorrow, I know it." A smile, genuine and full of a trust I wasn't sure I deserved. He got to his feet. "May Tyr be with you during this fight. He will see the dead of Ember avenged and justice done," he turned back just before he left, "Until tomorrow, my lady." Something made me beam, catching him a little off guard.

"Goodnight, Casavir." With a hesitant nod he left me alone to my thoughts. My eyes arced up to the high windows and saw the moon at its peak in the sky. Couldn't have been much past midnight. I looked back at the statue and wondered what Tyr himself thought of his servant's involvement with a woman like me. I was hardly the smiting, virtuous type, but I knew I had a good heart. In my book that was all that mattered.

-+-+-+-+-

"It's just a statue, you know." I didn't turn. I knew who it was. But this time there was no sneer, no snide suggestion, just cold, hard facts. "Tyr isn't here. He's not watching this. But I am." I heard him take a few steps closer, but didn't move from my position, seated on a wooden chair I had found once the floor had numbed me. "Can smell that paladin was here a while ago. What did he want, to give you the blessing of his self-righteous God or just to patronise you some more?"

"Why are you here, Bishop?" I asked quietly, still looking forward. I had been trying to get some sleep before the next morning. But it didn't look like that was on anyone's agenda, not even mine as he spoke again.

"Don't know, really," he sighed, coming up next to me. I could _feel_ him glaring at the stone figure before us. "Maybe it's the same reason I'm still running around at your beck and call with you and the _party_ you've assembled. Maybe it's because your Uncle decided to force me to help you to hunt down that useless slip of a girl in the first place."

"You could have said no," I shot at him, my head whirling round. He laughed bitterly.

"Now we both know that wasn't an option. Doesn't matter, though. Keep paying me and I'll play along for now."

"You know, if all you're going to do is tell me how unbearable my company is then just get out of here. Leave. I've had enough of you to last a lifetime, believe me."

"Haha, so the kitten found her claws after all. Didn't think you had it in you," he grinned and looked down at me, "I'm here to help you, as your luck would have it."

"My luck? I don't want or _need_ your help. When tomorrow comes I'll cut him down, make no mistake." I'd been working myself up to kill him since Casavir left. I couldn't let old loyalties get in the way of what had to be done. Another one of his laughs, twisted with irony.

"That's a pretty good start. Probably why I hate you a little less than your fool of an Uncle."

"I'm flattered," I replied, rolling my eyes, "Why would you want to help me, anyway? Once I'm dead you're free to do whatever the hell you want, since you insist on repaying what you owe, whatever that is. Seems like it's in your best interests to disadvantage me." Bishop looked at me appraisingly.

"And if I did? If I sold you out and helped the Luskans?"

"Ignoring the fact that you'd probably rather hang yourself than help them, I'd kill him, then find and kill you. Deserters are one thing. Traitors...now that's quite another. And that's why Lorne's got to die." He nodded in what would have been respect if I didn't know him better.

"Tell the truth, I don't really know why I'm helping you. Lorne bothers me, I guess," a smirk, back to his old ways, "I think I'd enjoy killing him. And any other Luskan dog." He pulled up a chair and sat, leaning on his knees. "Still don't think you've got much of a chance in hell, but I'd hate for you to die too soon tomorrow. The people deserve their entertainment after all, so listen up, half-breed." I got the feeling the insult was a little half-hearted and token, but his tone soon became more serious. "Lorne...men like him can barely keep it together at the best of times. Even at the trial - yeah, I was there, somewhere in the back, try not to faint - I could tell he wanted a fight. And not just any fight, he wanted you. To kill you right there and then. If that was the case yesterday he'll be pacing right now itching to cut you in two. Not a man much in control of himself, then. Heard he used to know you, too," he smirked, stroking the stubble of his chin. "Wonder what you did to piss him off so much."

"He never had any control to begin with. And all I've done is not die fast enough. Probably fouled a few of his plans assigned to him by whoever his new _employer_ is. He's not the person he once was. Back in the Harbour...he was vicious, and a hot-headed bastard, but he knew who his own were, and he wouldn't have turned against them. Killing him would be doing him and the world a favour, I think." He shrugged, leaning back.

"Seems you got him pretty figured out. All I can say about tomorrow strategy-wise is don't stop hitting him. He's too wound up with that ugly sword of his to fight smart, and he doesn't like being weighed down with armour. Just keep hitting him, and don't stop." He glanced to one side, wondering if he should go on. His face was a difficult one to read, but I think I was starting to understand. "With fighters like him, they have a limit. At some point he'll start going crazy, go completely berserk. He'll be desperate but also dangerous, and there's nothing he'll stop at to kill you. Not after everything Luskan did to get to you. Just...watch yourself." As if realising what he just said he quickly continued. "You're a good fighter, I'll say that much. Deserve better than to die in a damn duel over nothing." He got to his feet. "Anyway, I've said enough. I'm out of here." Just before the door he paused. "If you chicken out and want me to fight for you tomorrow...well, I might do it. I might not. Ask me again, and if I'm feeling generous enough I'll step in. Try not to get yourself killed, anyway. You're better company than Duncan." And with that he was gone.

Such a contradiction in one person. It was mind-boggling. I questioned whether I would ever know who he really was. I suspected not, but the mystery was interesting enough. I thought about Casavir's words before. He was dangerous and manipulative, that much was certain, but he hadn't got to me quite yet. At least I didn't think so. What was there in the ranger's gaze that unsettled him so? He didn't like the way Bishop had looked at me, a remark that would have reeked of unfounded and ignorant jealousy coming from another. All I could see as my new tracker's eyes pierced right through me was amusement, laced with a curiosity and what could have been a slowly building respect that I was just beginning to comprehend.

That must have been it. Casavir...he had offered his life in place of mine. As a paladin I supposed it was only his duty, but it was sincere enough. He wouldn't have done that without the utmost respect for me, that much was certain. Watching another following me out of debt and undermining every word he said must have been enraging. Those two…they were both so much more complex than any of the louts that were normally found stumbling around the mere. I may have had them twined around my little finger within a week back when I was the pretty barmaid and they could ignore the fact that I was also the militia's best fighter, but here everything was so much, well, _bigger_, and a thousand times more complicated. I tried not to think of such things before the morning. I had to concentrate on the task at hand. My two best men would simply have to find a way of sorting it out, because I needed them both if only for their ability whether I liked it or not.

I tilted my head back and closed my eyes, feeling peace washing over me as I relaxed into a mindless haze to rest. I had a big day tomorrow.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

The air was ripe for bloodshed, that morning. I was escorted under the watchful eyes of two guards to the arena as if I might decide that now and not the night before was the time to make my escape. The dust covering the floor of the ring was perfectly still, as were the spectators on either side. No doubt it had seen its fair share of death before, and now it would again. But not mine, no, not today. I shielded my eyes from the sun peeking out from the top of Castle Never on the hill, and followed the long black shadow lapping at my feet to Shandra. She stood before me with her arms crossed thoughtfully as she regarded me with a curious mix of apprehension and humour.

With a small smile she retrieved my long, heavy blade, black-coated scabbard and all, from its resting place against the small tent I'd been allocated. Slowly she walked over and placed it in my hands like a grave burden.

"At times like this I feel a little like your squire." Her wide smiles always seemed to cheer me up because they were so honest. And it was true, the newest real member of our little band had taken to looking after me because she was certain I wasn't doing it myself. And if that meant forcing three square meals down my throat every day and making sure I hadn't put my greaves on the wrong way around in my hazy state of mind then so be it. It felt a little unnecessary but there was something comforting about it as well, since Daeghun had never been much of a motherly figure. In truth, the farm girl was beginning to grow on me.

"_Well_, I feel rather like a gnome, which is just wonderful, because I _am_ one!" Grobnar's chipper voice didn't grate on me like it normally did, but to say he was growing on me too would have been both a stupid pun and an exaggeration I didn't want to admit to. Still, the gnome did have his good points. Even his rambling managed to put a weak smile on my face as I looked out into the crowd. "Oh my, look at all these people."

"Aye…seems we've drawn quite an audience," I murmured, not finding much inspiration in the way of words as I slashed experimentally with my sword to get the motion back.

"An _excellent_ thing to be sure! Well, on an occasion less rife with slaughter and blood loss, that is," he continued, still in the same cheerful tone. I did a quick double take at his comment but soon shook it off, turning my attention back to Shandra who was tapping her foot against her shin nervously, her hands tightening around her biceps as she crossed her arms closer to her.

"Are you sure about this? I mean really, really sure? It's not too late to bow out, you know, choose someone else to fight for you? I mean I know I wouldn't have a chance, but…maybe Khelgar? He's always up for a fight…or…or Casavir!" she said triumphantly.

"I can't, Shandra, and you know why." I'd already told her about Lorne's history with my village, though she still refused to believe I was raised anywhere but in the most glorious castle in Amn or somewhere equally glamorous along the sword coast. She'd been sympathetic, though I know she found it hard to understand why I needed to be the one to end him. But I had to. I had to look into his cold, dark eyes and see nothing but hatred staring back at me, that way I'd know it was the hate and not the man I killed.

"I have faith in you, Evelyn, you know I do, and I'm sure you'll be fine—"

"Oh, you changed your mind, Shandra? How marvellous! After all that _crying_ last night and the things you were saying about how you didn't understand how she can possibly…" The gnome's eyes were wide with an innocence I couldn't imagine was faked. He was certainly an _eccentric_ little character…

"_Grobnar_, would you shut _up?_" She hissed, not looking at me. I was a little touched, but still had trouble focussing on anything but the fight ahead. It was like it always was when I had something like this looming up. Anything that happened afterwards could damn well wait until then, as now there was no guarantee I'd be around to see it. I did allow myself a little pleasure at the fact that there were no butterflies infesting my stomach as I waited. In fact, I was steeled and calm as ever. Well, alright, I was never that steeled _or_ calm, and there was a distinct wave of nausea that passed through me as I thought of that dirty great falchion cutting through me like a butcher's knife, but I could do this. More to the point, I _would_ do this. I would beat him, I would win, and I would do just what the heroine was supposed to do. That is, if anyone, anywhere would have considered _me_ a heroine.

"Oh, right. Sorry. Tactless. Right. Again. Sorry. Did I say that? Sorry…" He trailed off in a squeaky, mollified voice and turned around with his hands folded behind his back in a universally guiltless position wearing an exact replica of my famed 'I-didn't-do-it-no-one-saw-me-you-can't-prove-a-thing' expression that had got me out of practically anything when I was a girl in trouble with anyone who wasn't Daeghun. Except I had been a little cuter at the time.

"What I _mean_, is that, well…I do want him to answer for everything, and for those _bastard_ Luskans to pay for their crimes, but…" She turned slightly, looking towards the other side of the arena where Lorne was ready and waiting, his anger rising off his face like steam. "Well just _look_ at him! He's huge! He's built like a mountain and if he wins against you…we're _lost_. You know that, right? Without you this group's nothing, and _I_ have nothing, but worst of all everything you've done will _be_ for nothing…" Worry wove through her tone, quiet and subdued. I had no idea she felt this way, but something told me she didn't want me to dwell on it. Still, I couldn't resist one final probe…

"Were you seriously worried about me?" I managed a cheeky grin to lighten the mood though I was hardly how I felt, and she rolled her eyes extravagantly.

"Well _yeah_," she snorted, "But I wasn't _crying_ or anything. Haven't cried since I was a girl, and…well…I know you'll pull through this." I executed a lightning fast attack against the air that was proving to be very deadly indeed throughout our travels combined with a strong, low kick and a final, gutting stab. I was ready.

"I can stop him, I can stop them. I won't let him go free, I promise." I dropped the sheathe to one side, not really foreseeing its use in the battle ahead. "But…well, if I can't, then make sure you stay low, all of you. They're not after you, they're after me – or at least I think so – but if I know anything about how they work it won't stop them from silencing you too."

"But you said you _promised_…" She lowered her eyebrows at me in mock frustration.

"Then I'll be one dishonourable corpse," I said with a slight smirk.

"Oh by the _Gods_, you're maddening!" She grated out, not angry with me but at the situation, "Fine. Go ahead. While you're at it see if you can move _Toril_ on the side." She threw her hands up in the air and glared at Grobnar because he was in her eye line at the time. The gnome didn't seem to notice. In fact, he was positively _bursting_ with happiness.

"Oh _my_, I think I've found some inspiration after all!" Grobnar started excitedly, bellowing out a nonsensical, if catchy, melody entwined with bardic magic. I felt a warmth rush over me and, bizarrely enough, a shower of sparkles twirl around my body. I shot a stern glance in his direction as I saw him quickly stuffing a packet of F-X Powder up his sleeve, but softened as I realised I might never see any of them again. I nodded in thanks, my expression schooling itself, and began to walk towards the entrance just as I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"Good luck, Evie," Shandra said quietly. I didn't look back, but put one hand over hers in appreciation and continued into the ring, the chorus of cheers starting up as I entered. Soon, Lorne took the relatively few steps into the arena and we stood there, facing each other from barely five metres away like the gladiators we had become. I ignored him for the time being and looked up into the sweeping crowds on either side. There was Nasher, with a few members of the Nine, Nevalle, Brelaina, even Marshall Cormick was there, one fist clenched and covering his mouth, the lines of his brow betraying his emotions. On the other side, I scanned the audience until Khelgar's roaring cheer pinpointed their location exactly, and there, as if in a line-up, were my companions. Neeshka looked annoyed at the Dwarf's behaviour, but there was concern in the set line of her mouth. Elanee was as serene as always, with her pouch of herbs at her hip in case the worst should happen, with Qara standing to one side, yawning widely and flicking her eyes over heads of the commoners below her with disinterest.

It suddenly occurred to me that I was now on the lowest rung of the nobility in Squirehood. I hated everything about that.

"Is the accuser or her champion here?" Lord Nasher's voice boomed over the masses, demanding silence and forcing my head round until I was craning up at him. Lorne wasn't taking his eyes off of me, even as he spoke.

"We are here," he grunted. I could feel the rage wafting off him like a pungent scent. This wouldn't be easy.

"Is the accused or her champion here?" I quite clearly was, but procedure was procedure.

"Yes I am, let's fight and be done with this." The High Justicar Oleff ran through the scenario, as if it wasn't already the talk of the city that an upright and glowing member of the watch had been hideously wronged by the Luskan traitors. At least you could count on the rumours to paint things up a little. I had joined the watch because I didn't like the 'proposition' the thieves' contact had presented me with. And I'd let him know that quite forcefully. After that it was just a matter of gritting my teeth through the endless twists and turns of the captain's wishes and forcing myself to believe that each pointless assignment was the last. But I'd done it all, and now I was here. It had paid off after all.

The signal was given to begin, and immediately he leapt forward in a downwards strike. I blocked it by holding my sword up with both hands but still stumbled back under his weight. He was _strong_.

"Lorne!" I cried at him, jumping back. "Stop this madness! I'm a harbourman like you!" It didn't even register on his face as he charged again and I ducked then parried a series of hard, heavy strikes. "What about Retta? What about your family?" I could barely hear my own voice over the clashing of our blades and the roar of the crowd.

"Shut up!" He growled, "I'm gonna carve my name into your hide while you're still _breathing_!" There was nothing but anger in his eyes, and I had seen enough to know that what I was doing was the right thing. I hated defending. I was good at it, but it always made others think I was losing. As I blocked blow after blow from the ferocious man in front of me I realised he wasn't anywhere close to becoming tired. His violent strikes kept coming and coming, and I knew I couldn't continue at this. I sidestepped the next cleave he sent at me and, spinning, slashed at his back as he fell forwards, the fury in his eyes as he whirled around and snarled at me only serving to harden my heart. "That all you've got?"

This time I sprang at him, using my smaller stature to my advantage as I swerved away from a retaliatory blow and disappeared under his raised arm, but barely managing to scratch him with the skilful strike I made at him from behind. He was still very, very good, I realised as we fought. Too good, perhaps. But I wouldn't let him beat me. I wasn't the militia's best swordarm for nothing.

His strength lay in his size and brute force, but mine was in my skill. I let my weapon meld into me, feeling it as an extension of myself as I attacked. But I was reminded a second later as he pushed my blade to one side and aimed a solid punch at my jaw that he was a weapon in and of himself. I felt my body twist in mid-air and I was knocked to the ground, trying desperately to ignore the pain pulsing through my face and limbs as I scrambled after my sword while avoiding the strikes he still rained on me. I grabbed it while still on my back and used the flat of the blade to force the heavy sword he carried to glance off, kicking him squarely in the abdomen with all my might before he could recover. He stepped backwards, winded, and both the throbbing of my body and the more sober mood of the crowd told me that we'd been fighting for a while. There were dozens of wounds littering his body that would have incapacitated lesser men, but he didn't seem to care.

"I _won't_ let you live, wench, not after what we've done to get you!" He spat at me as I got to my feet.

"You think you can beat me?" I laughed defiantly, bringing my sword up to point at him. "You couldn't even beat Cormick in the Harvest Brawl." With a cry of rage, he charged again.

-+-+-+-+-

I saw her fall, and immediately concern welled up, but she bested him again and the fight continued. Her blade was almost as large as his, but she herself was much smaller. I gripped the edges of the stands to stop the anxiety from showing on my face. If she fell, we fell. The group and the quest was nothing without her to lead it, and here I was, watching her getting battered bloody by a brute twice her size and doing nothing. That was what galled me the most. I hated the fact that I could do nothing to help her.

Though she'd told me once for a thousand times that she didn't need as much protection as I thought she did. And the thing was part of me knew she didn't. Part of me knew quite unmistakeably that the woman below me in the yellowed dust of the arena was battle-hardened and holding her own and really didn't need me to defend her, but I couldn't help it. Chivalry didn't even come into it this time. At least I didn't think so. Perhaps it was so ingrained that I wasn't even aware when I threw myself into danger's path. The thought grew considerably less important as I watched her fight. Such a young girl, but with immense grace and skill. In battle, anyway. I saw the pain on her face as he struck and the gritting of her teeth as she forced him back, but none of it showed in the way she fought – purposefully and completely without reserve.

A particularly hard blow made her stagger backwards and shout what was probably an insult at him. A gasp made me look to my right and I saw Neeshka there, her hands over her mouth as she watched, Khelgar looking equally anxious and moving closer for support. And then, over the top of her head, I saw him in the background. I hadn't expected Bishop to be here, and yet he was. He looked fairly neutral with his arms crossed over his chest and a steady unwavering gaze at the scene before us all, but the tightness in his jaw let me know that he did in fact care about the outcome of this fight.

The crowd lurched as one and I quickly turned back to see her falling against the opposite wall, clearly having been lunged into bodily by Lorne. She slumped down, even as he charged, and my grip on the wooden stands tightened. I couldn't just watch as she was killed. I saw the blood trailing down from the corner of her lip, the bruise welling up on her cheek, the sudden clenching of her teeth and enraged, manic expression as she threw her arms forwards and a river of flame flew out and hurled the huge man backwards. As the smoke cleared I saw her panting, then her expression hardened as she leant on her sword to rise up and retrieved something from her pocket. She uncorked it with her teeth and took a long swig before dropping it to the floor and shouting something at him, her strength clearly returning.

Lorne, meanwhile, was anything but beaten, even with his singed flesh and many wounds. He scrambled to his feet like a man possessed and with a guttural war cry charged at her. I could see the veins throbbing on the surface of his tattooed scalp even from my vantage point. She feigned to one side and dodged his attacks easily, a rakish grin appearing on her face as she yelled right back at him in a taunt. He wasn't even thinking anymore, he was just attacking. The fight was all but over.

-+-+-+-+-

"Stay _still_, damn you!" He roared. I was astounded he could even form sentences as enraged as he was. The adrenaline rush from the surprisingly potent potion was still flowing through me and I danced around him easily, parrying and dodging and making sure he used up all the energy reserves he had left nice and quickly. Funny, the potion also appeared to have given me an optimism boost. As well as that, my left foot and forearm were no longer broken, which was always a bonus. There was a black patch on the skin of his partially exposed chest, right where the unexpected but very welcome fireball had hit him and blown off half of his armour, and I dug my heel in nice and hard when I had an opening, the cry of pain that wrenched from his lips an indication that his berserker rage was close to ending.

A slash at his stomach, then another at the back of his knees. He was getting sloppy, and his breathing was deepening as I ran circles around him. Grobnar's song still lingered after all. Finally one last stampede from his part allowed me to knock his blade out of his hand and boot him to the floor. It was too far for him to reach, and, by the time he noticed, my sword was already at his neck. He was still fuming as if his glare alone could somehow cause me to spontaneously combust. After that, I had to admit, _frightening_ display of random magic, it wasn't so outlandish.

I wanted to tell him to get to his feet so I could kill him honourably, but there was no honour in this however I looked at it. Somehow, this one was harder than the others. I even looked away as I stabbed through his throat with my blade and heard his final breath escape as a gurgling, blubbery sigh. It was done.

I walked away while cheers erupted around me. As Nasher's voice boomed around the arena once more speaking of divine justice and the punishment for the Luskans, I leant down and retrieved the ritual flask of Tyr from where I had dropped it. Somehow, it had landed the right side up and leaning against the wall so no more of the liquid was lost. I retrieved the cork and restored the metal container to its place in my pocket just as I realised I probably would have been dead if it were not for the magic granted by Tyr to his servant. No, I _should_ have died. There was no way, if we had the same advantages, that I'd have been able to defeat Lorne. I'd had the luck of a bard with me during the fight. Or perhaps this was divine justice after all.

"To the accused, I believe you are in need of a well-deserved rest. Return to the Sunken Flagon – that is a command from your Lord, soldier of Neverwinter." The amusement in his voice towards the end wasn't as comforting as it was probably intended to be. There it was, staring me in the face. I owed them, now. I had been drafted into their service and I hadn't even realised. They had helped me out, and now I'd be helping them out for the foreseeable future. I hated it, but knew it was inevitable.

I craned my eyes up to the crowd and suddenly they locked with Casavir's, his face clearly registering his relief but not much more expressive than he was normally. I'd have to thank him for saving my life later. But for now, it was time to follow a direct order from the Lord of Neverwinter and find myself some whiskey.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

One journey ended, and another was sure to begin, but for now I didn't have to think about that. Tonight I was the heroine who had overcome adversity to prove her innocence and slay the enemy. Or at least that's what everyone else told me.

I had indeed returned to the Flagon, and was greeted by a crowd of well-wishers and congratulators, some of whom I recognised but mostly just nodded politely to in return. Of course Duncan was ecstatic, instantly claiming he knew it all along even as I heard giggling reports from the barmaid Rita about his anxiety the night before. But this evening everyone had calmed, especially me. My life was no longer so obviously hanging by a thread, and when the morrow came perhaps I would look to the future again, but for now…a scarlet concoction that reeked of alcohol and crushed cranberries was sent my way across the black wood of the bar and I gladly took a gulp, winking at Sal who grinned back.

There was a bard, or so he claimed, that played an ageing fiddle in one corner, giving everything I saw a lively, stirring backdrop. What remaining wounds I'd had were long mended, and I felt reborn.

"You seem uplifted this evening, Evelyn, particularly compared to yesterday," Elanee's voice was as soft as her hands when she'd healed me, marvelling at the lack of wounds I'd sustained before she'd realised I'd healed myself.

"But of course. I'm alive to see another day, the Luskans are weakened, and I've a drink in my hand," I grinned at her even as those large, green eyes stared at me neutrally. I didn't mean to provoke her, as I know she didn't drink herself, but thankfully a lecture wasn't heading my way.

"I'm glad, of course. I'll admit that like everyone I had my doubts, especially after seeing what you were up against…" She gave me a wry smile that was entirely unexpected. Her face was so flawless and unlined that I thought it must in part be due to the fact that she rarely showed any emotion that wasn't just a weary resignation at the ways of the world. "But of course part of me knew you'd do it. You always find a way, somehow, even when you were in the Mere you'd get your own way. Always talking or just smiling angelically to get out of anything, I recall it well," she added wistfully. I couldn't contain a laugh as I remembered the way Georg's face used to melt as I explained to him piteously how it couldn't possibly have been me that did whatever it was I was in trouble for before Retta told him I was a bald-faced liar and made sure I was punished accordingly. I longed for such frivolity now.

"Well, it turns out that in this case justice happened to coincide with my own personal interest in my continued breathing." I took another swig. "Not to say I wouldn't have fought tooth and nail against people who would do that sort of thing anyway, but…well…probably wouldn't have let myself get killed over it. " She nodded slowly, calculatingly.

"And it is a good thing, too, that you take pride in your wellbeing. We need you, Evelyn, as I am sure you are aware. And not just for what you possess, but for your _strength_, both physical and otherwise. I of all people should know something of that." The smile she gave on those thin, pink lips was almost maternal. My head was spinning, and certainly not because of the drink. The druid was always so chiding, so full of reprimands and lessons that it was worse than being back at home – though in truth I was missing that as well. She never seemed to have a care in the world as to my welfare beyond nature's plan, and this was all a little strange.

"Thank you, Elanee." I said uncertainly.

"It is nothing but the truth, child. Your growth since I followed you from West Harbour has been phenomenal." Well, I suppose she had a point there. I must have learned more with six or so months on the road than I had in the past ten years at home. It showed on the new or just larger muscles that were forming along my arms and stomach, as well as the way I could now charge a group of four or five common thugs with the confidence that I'd come out relatively unscathed. "And I know you will continue to grow. We all do."

"We? I didn't know you spoke much to the others."

"I do keep mostly to myself, but I am not _that_ withdrawn. It was difficult to ignore Sand's poorly concealed worry as he looked at you fighting," she shook her head, the ghost of a smile twitching at her lips, "He's taken quite a shine to you, you know. Probably sees a sort of protégée in your sense of 'humour'." Was that a joke? It seemed impossible from her, but there it was.

"Sand's a good man, forget what Duncan says. In fact I'm certain they're the best of friends in reality." It was a pity that just at that moment the innkeeper began a heated argument with the smaller yet in no way less imposing wizard.

"Aye, well…we shall see, I suppose."

"Evelyn! Look what we got! I just found it here, is it Lorne's?" Neeshka's voice told me instantly without even listening to the content that we'd obtained something that would fetch a very high price indeed. Her eyes lit up like a child in front of a birthday cake, though her tiefling blood meant that she was probably even younger than I in her mind. "Must be, really looks like it! Nasher said we could keep all his stuff so they must have sent it here! And if it's from Luskan it'll be all enchanted and…oh! Look at this hallmark!" She jabbered excitedly, waving the huge falchion around in front of me like a stick of rock candy. Elanee nodded at me in amusement and moved to one side.

"Yes, that's his. The armour was probably too mangled to be worth a thing anyway." She barely even heard me, still busy inspecting the blade with curious chocolate eyes that glittered with gold.

"Wow, that _is_ big…" I heard Shandra's voice to my side, "How in the hells did you manage to block against that?" I shrugged, genuinely not knowing but figuring it probably had something to do with ancient dark magic, my soul now being owed to another in some underworld, or just plain blind luck. Shandra shook her head at me despairingly. "Well at least you're alive, that's the important thing."

"Oh Evie _please_ let me sell it! It'll make so much gold and I'll give you most of it!" her brow wrinkled like an infant about to burst into tears. I laughed.

"Of course you can. I don't want to see it again, and your own blades are looking a little scrappy so why don't you just sell it and buy _yourself_ something nice."

"All…all of it?"

"Aye, all of it. I'm in a generous mood that probably won't last so take advantage while you can." With an excited squeal she was gone, tail whipping out behind her like a sinewy piece of rope.

"You certainly are." Shandra added, sitting down next to me and motioning over a drink. Sal poured her a mug of ale and refilled my dwindling glass as we looked out around us.

"Don't worry, I'm just happy to be alive. Still astounded that he didn't rip me limb from limb." I sobered momentarily as I recalled just how close that could have been.

"Well, of course _I _always knew you'd be fine, but I didn't want you to think you could just _die_ on me. On _us_! Had to make you feel a little guilty about it if you did."

"Of course."

"What do you mean '_of course?_' It's true. Grobnar doesn't know where he _is_, half the time…" She motioned to the gnome, who was having an animated conversation with a man clearly passed out from his drink, a small trickle of drool making its way out of one corner of his lip. "…so don't believe a word he says about before."

"Then you weren't worried?"

"Well _yeah_, a little, but I _really_ wasn't crying. I don't know where he got that from." I would have rattled off something about how there was no shame in crying but it sounded too trite coming from me considering I hadn't shed a tear since I was…fifteen, perhaps sixteen? Well, not in front of anyone, anyway. That would be too humiliating.

"It's ok, I believe you. And I don't know where all this faith in me is coming from considering all I've done was for my own best interests and I also almost got myself killed."

"Yeah, I was watching. I saw you fall, and then you got right back up again and it was like you'd just got started."

"Oh, well I had a potion on me. A _strong_ one."

"_I'll_ say! After that he was down so quickly hardly anyone could believe their eyes. They thought you were just _faking_ losing in order to put him off. What was that stuff, anyway?" Was it still there, I wondered? I reached into my pocket and felt the cool metal against my fingers, sliding it out and holding it up for her to see.

"It's a ritual flask, apparently. Whatever's in it worked bloody well."

"Is that the symbol of Tyr on the front?" She asked with wide eyes. It certainly was a thing of beauty now that I had it in the light. Veins of colour ran along the surface, revealed by the bright glow of the Tavern which made the intricate inscriptions even more visible. "Who gave it to you, the priests at the temple?"

"No, actually, it was…Casavir." I was a grown woman, but for some reason it felt like she was Retta asking me what on Faerûn teenagers these days called that purple, painfully obvious bruise on the side of my neck and who had given it to me. Shandra's eyebrows shot up, which didn't help matters in the slightest.

"Casavir? Really? That's _nice_ of him," she winked.

"Oh stop it, Shandra, it's nothing like that." I scowled but couldn't keep the playfulness from my eyes as she twirled a long strand of flaxen hair. She really was quite beautiful. I still remembered how that funny looking gnomish artist had shoved his current model to one side and grabbed my hand, telling me I was the fairest, most lovely maiden he'd ever had the chance to paint, just before he pushed me away as well and told Shandra that _she_ was the one his canvas longed to know and couldn't rest another second without taking her stunning likeness down that instant. I wasn't bitter, but it was a bit of a slap in the face. Alright, perhaps I was bitter, but I didn't begrudge her the painting, and her small, apologetic smile as I offered it was genuine enough for me to like her even though at that time I didn't want to. Bitterness was always so much more fun. But then I was being proved wrong time and time again these days. People were changing all around me, and the more I realised it the more I knew that it was just me noticing that they'd been that way all along.

"Stop what? He gave you something very dear to him. I think it's sweet."

"He saved my life is what he did. There's no way I'd have been able to keep going without that little boost. Lorne would have had me for sure."

"Have you told him?" She asked innocently. I didn't believe it for a second.

"Told him what?"

"How grateful you are, of course. After all, if he saved your life then surely _some_ thanks is in order."

"I suppose you're right…" I looked to one side and saw him there, composed as ever but with a faint smile as he spoke to a face I didn't know but a livery which identified him as, I believed, an initiate of Tyr. Perhaps a man he used to know? But he didn't seem as uneasy as he was in the temple, so maybe this was one that didn't shun him like I'd heard the others had. I found myself desperately wanted to know why he left, why I found him so deep in Old Owl Well battling something he couldn't see. It seemed like once I'd unraveled this mystery the rest of the man would be a trifle. That's how most men were, anyway. But he wasn't one of them, and I couldn't stand not knowing what it was that made him so different. I hated being in the dark anyway, and even though he kept trying Daeghun had never really managed to hammer into me that ignorance was sometimes bliss.

When I turned back to her Shandra was pursing her lips in a way that announced that she was trying very hard not to smile.

"Are you alright?" I asked, furrowing my brow. What in the hells had got into her…

"Fine. Fine. Just, ah…remembered I left something upstairs. I'm going to go now…" She said with the finesse of a swamp troll reciting an epic love poem in melodic verse.

"Sure…" I answered, nodding uncertainly as she left with her drink still in one hand. My gaze moved around the room and met his just as the man he'd been talking to took his leave. Well, it was now or never. Besides, I'd been wanting to have a talk with him about something that wasn't our travels or my 'quest'. With more conviction than I felt, I walked over slowly, realising belatedly that I'd left my drink on the bar but figuring I wouldn't need it.

"It is good to see you well, my lady," he said formally with a bow of his head.

"Aye, it's good to be alive, that's for sure," I chuckled merrily as I sat down opposite him, leaning on one elbow and feeling the ancient, drink-stained wood of the chair creek ominously, "Thanks to you."

"What do you mean? You did just as you would have without what council I was able to offer beforehand, so surely what I said did not account for that much?"

"Not what you said, but this," I pulled out the flask and shook it. There was still a fair amount left. "I don't know what this stuff is but without it there's no way I'd be standing here now."

"So that was what you drank after the…fireball. I must admit before that I did have my doubts. You did look a little worse for wear."

"Yes, after the fireball, or whatever that was. One of these days I must learn what it is I'm actually doing…And I was fine, really. You can swallow a whole pint of blood before you get sick, I've learned, and I wasn't _quite_ there yet…but no matter, my point is without you I'm sure I'd be a corpse by now. Several times over, in fact. So thank you."

"Think nothing of it, my lady. Truly, to know you are alive and well is all the thanks I need," I didn't know if the low softness in his voice was that paladin charm beaten into all initiates or really him. I didn't care as long as it remained so pleasant to hear.

"Right, just doing your job, after all," I smirked, "Don't paladins ever get tired of helping people?"

"I…didn't help you because of my duty, my lady. Surely you know that without you this quest is for nothing…"

"Well, I don't know about that, after all you'd be able to fish out another shard from somewhere in my ribcage…" He chuckled for what was possibly the first time since I'd met him. He had these deep, ocean blue eyes that sparkled with mirth now that they weren't steeled in combat or hardened through propriety and duty. And…were those dimples? Well, he was at least four, five years older than me so he wasn't that young, but his open smile was still bracketed by faint lines of youth in his cheeks. I thought they were adorable, but quite clearly couldn't tell him that. For some reason I felt the same way around him that I did with Daeghun. His good opinion mattered to me, and though it really shouldn't have done it made me want to act a little more 'proper' than I was normally, like I was under constant scrutiny from someone far better than I was. But then again, he probably had no illusions about what I was like, so there really was no point. No, I knew he respected me and that was enough. He wouldn't lose it just because I was a little crass. Well, I say a _little_…

"And that is something I doubt any of us wish to happen," he responded quickly, continuing on, "What I mean is…it was the very least I could do. I was watching the fight with the others, and at least knowing that I had helped you however I could was some consolation." With anyone else I would have pointed out how nice it was that _he_ felt consoled, what with me facing death in a head-on collision, but I knew he didn't mean it like that.

"You were worried?" I asked, forcing the swell in my cheeks to subside so he didn't think I was joking at him.

"But…of course. As were the others," he added hastily, "They care about you, as their friend and leader." A particularly loud and contemptuous comment in the distance from Qara undercut this somewhat, but it still stood. And I realised it was true. Something warm and fuzzy overcame me, and I swiftly continued as I told the something to leave me the hell alone.

"I suppose you're right, though I'm not sure how. I can't imagine my job is that difficult. And there are many that would make far better leaders than I."

"Like who?" He asked, furrowing his brow.

"Well, like _you_ for one. Don't think I didn't see those adoring looks on all your men's faces. Well, perhaps not _adoring_ but they respected you. And they were willing to follow you through the nine hells and back, which is far more than can be said for some." He shook his head, his expression tightening uncomfortably.

"No, my lady, I was simply at the forefront of something they cared a great deal about – protecting their homes. I am no leader. I am barely a paladin, in truth." He cast his eyes down as if a great weight pressed down on his shoulders. A grave silence descended before my own voice, quiet and curious, broke it.

"Casavir, why _were_ you in Old Owl Well?" I didn't know where the question came from, though I knew as I asked it that it was one I'd wanted to know the answer to since I'd met him there. He stiffened slightly, but then gave a deep sigh as he leaned backwards, his eyes still not meeting mine.

"Because they needed someone. The people there couldn't protect themselves no matter how much they wished to. My sword made a difference, and I helped them help themselves. No other reason." Liar.

"Really? Why couldn't you have just got Neverwinter to act on your behalf, or even ask for a group of soldiers to help you? The Well is in their domain, so it's in the city's best interests to protect it. Even if they did not want to _send_ the soldiers there you could have approached Callum – you seemed to know him, after all – and allied with him." Yes, Daeghun had been rather fond of my geography and history lessons. I'd hated every second, being at the time far more concerned with what was happening then and there than with the tactics of some Lord in the battle to reclaim some useless patch of land, but the important parts had stuck to my memory like a limpet.

"No, you don't understand," he said hurriedly, though the irritation that crept into his voice wasn't at me, I knew, as he shot a glance at some of the members of the watch littered around, "Neverwinter wouldn't have listened to me, not even had I stayed in their service. I couldn't move them to action, even though there was a great need for it. But then you came along…and with your help we did what needed to be done, for the good of all without regard to Neverwinter's procedures…"

"Yes, we did well together. But before then you were alone," I said quietly. Katalmach. That's what they'd called him. Something had haunted him there. It haunted him still. But what?

"Aye. But I had to be alone, you must realise. It had to be done, and I wasn't going to wait for Neverwinter to help me. By then it would be too late. So...I did what I had to."

"Why? For yourself or for your paladinhood?" He clearly hadn't expected that, for his gaze slowly moved up to meet mine.

"It doesn't matter why. I just…had to. At…at least there, fighting, there were no doubts as to what I had to do. No conflicts. I was doing the right thing, and that was that." His voice was oddly clipped, and it showed that this wasn't something he wanted to talk about to anyone. But I found I couldn't stop, such was my curiosity.

"What do you mean, conflicts? That's all fighting is, isn't it?" He didn't reply. This was supposed to be a happy, drunken occasion and I was probing at the deepest conversation I'd had in months. Though somehow I didn't long for a distraction in the form of a bottle. "You ok?"

"Different kinds of battles, I mean," he brought a hand up to his forehead and paused for a long while, sighing, "Forgive me, it is difficult to explain, and something I've avoided thinking about. With battles…some can be fought and won, others cannot be fought at all." He continued slowly in that deep, smooth voice of his, as if thinking very deeply about how to phrase his words to cover his relative lack of composure. I didn't say anything, but waited for him to go on. There was a wealth of depth I glimpsed behind his temple's symbol I couldn't have imagined. That bemused expression surfaced in my mind as my lips pressed against his cheek, the intensity of his eyes as he looked into mine before Qara interrupted and it was lost. "My lady, however much I appreciate your words, and your intentions…you must know that this is something I find…very difficult to speak of," he sounded pained, and I felt strangely guilty. Then again, holy men always had that effect on me.

"Sorry, Casavir. Just…I hope you know you can talk to me. If you want, I mean. That way you won't have to deal with those troubles of yours alone," I said in what I hoped was an encouraging manner, and he gave a small smile even though he shook his head.

"Thank you, my lady, but the words are…difficult to find," I couldn't imagine him being at a loss for words, not with the way he spoke to others with such a silver tongue and formal word. It was probably more to do with the fact that he didn't want to share it with me, which was understandable, really. I didn't look like the type of woman that could keep a secret.

"I know, I know, I'm just being intrusive, but it's hardly my fault. Back home everyone used to ask me for an opinion, a piece of advice, and everyone was so open about matters. Coming here…well, it's a little strange. I barely know the first thing about most of the people I travel with, and you're the worst after Bishop," I grinned.

"Am…am I truly so reclusive?" He asked incredulously, though the set of his eyes told me he already half knew the answer.

"It doesn't matter, I'm just too curious. But really, if you think I'll judge you for anything in your past…well, first of all, what's in the past is in the past as far as I'm concerned and secondly, _look_ at me, I'm in no position to pass judgement on _anyone_. Doesn't matter what you think you've done, you'll always be welcome travelling with me."

"Honestly?" There was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes that continued to break away at everything I thought I knew about him. "So no matter what I've done…"

"Well, of course I'd be a little disturbed if I found out you were wanted in Baldur's Gate for mass murders or something, but I can hardly bring myself to think let alone believe a single bad thing about you." He breathed a laugh but then as quickly as it had come the jovial mood had passed and he was sombre once more.

"But…my lady…surely you know of my leaving Neverwinter's service…" His voice quietened conspiratorially and his brows lowered in keeping with his serious tone.

"And so? Why is that necessarily a bad thing?" He regarded me for a long while before exhaling deeply and looking down.

"I…am…an oath breaker," he said finally. I could have guessed as much considering almost everyone serving Neverwinter had an oath of some kind, but his voice told me it wasn't just the usual casual promise to king and county. "I betrayed my pledge to Neverwinter and left. Disobeyed direct orders because of mere doubts. Doubts about my service to Nasher and the city itself."

"…why?" I prompted as he trailed off.

"Impulse of youth. A rash and irresponsible decision, and _not_ the correct one. But I cannot take it back now and must live with the shame it brings."

"Is that all?" I asked in wonder. His head whipped up.

"All? I betrayed my oath, went entirely against my duty…and you do not care?"

"What duty? The only duty you should have is to yourself and your conscience. There's no way I'd expect you to stay with me if I suddenly decided to become a mindless slaughterer of innocents, whatever duty you think you may have. If you disagreed with the way Neverwinter did things and wanted to do them right yourself…then, alright, maybe it's a silly decision practically, but it's pretty morally sound."

"I…I am barely fit to be a Paladin, my lady. It is almost a mockery that I still call myself one."

"I don't believe that for a second. You serve Tyr, _justice_, not just a set of laws that say some must die while others in the city's walls may live. Isn't that why you left in the first place?"

"You…are right, of course. Neverwinter…its policies are just about trade and _politics_." He said irately. "They would only give help to the people like those at the Well if it would benefit them like that, not because it was the right thing to do. I needed to go there to act _directly_. Youth doesn't allow for carefully thought-out plans, but once I had made the spontaneous decision to leave, I couldn't turn back. And it was there you found me. I thank you still for helping me."

"Well, I didn't have much of a choice, you'll remember. But still…it felt good. Reminded me of my days in the militia, though lizardmen don't hit as hard as Orcs. I was happy for the chance to help out at the same time."

"As was I…perhaps if Neverwinter recruited more such as you, my lady, others would realise just…just how _flawed_ their system is." I still knew so little about him, but it was becoming clearer even though I got the feeling he still had much to tell me. I wasn't sure how I managed to respect him so much more for breaking an oath than for keeping one, but there it was.

"Recruited? I didn't have much a choice in that, either. Everything up 'til now seemed so planned out, you know? I didn't think of it much before but looking back it's…well, it's annoying. I hated the way I had to run around in a watchman's livery and impose law on people just trying to live." I realised belatedly that I had just given him his job description, so quickly continued, "I mean…I hate feeling like I'm someone else's puppet. And that's all that watch captain let me be. Gods know what they'll ask from me now I'm a _squire_. I miss being a proud commoner, though I suppose I always shall be by birth. The very idea of nobility, that someone can be more important than another simply because of their parents, no matter what kind of deplorable, snivelling little imbecile they turn out to be just sickens me."

"Becoming a squire of Neverwinter is a great honour, my lady, though obviously I do empathise."

"I wouldn't mind if they asked me to do things that I would anyway, but the second I have to kneel before someone I have no reason to respect is the instant I throw in this pretty little cloak they gave me."

"Aye, that is one thing I could not abide either. But somehow I do not think they will treat you like just another puppet."

"Perhaps not, but the fates certainly will. This looks like the beginnings of a grand adventure to me, and however exciting that was at first now it feels a little as if I have no control over my destiny. Particularly with this shard inside me…"

"Wherever your fate takes you, you will never be short of companions, that much I am sure."

"Yes, well, I suppose I cannot complain too much, considering how kind fate has been to me recently." I winked at him and made to raise my glass before I realised I had none. No matter, the man sitting in front of me would have to be my entertainment for now.

-+-+-+-+-

It was a lot later when I finally decided to turn in for the night, said my goodbyes and thank-yous to the people that had wished me well and left the common room. I was almost completely sober, I noticed offhandedly. I hadn't moved very much from where I sat with Casavir for most of the evening, and my drink was such a long way away by then. When I realised Shandra had returned, the 'something' she had thought so important to retrieve was nowhere to be found. What in the Hells was she playing at?

There was a contented smile on my face as I slowly made my way up the single flight of stairs. I was alive, had my first good night's sleep in far, far too long ahead of me, and that warm, fuzzy thing kept coming back in full force.

Casavir was certainly an interesting one to talk to. He must have thought I was a complete dunce by now but was polite enough not to mention it. I didn't have the sort of self control he did, and while everything he said sounded as if it had a great deal of thought behind it my words just sort of tumbled out of my mouth without much input from higher up. Not all the time, of course. But I was used to be able to say whatever I wanted and to be as candid as I pleased with most of my friends back in the mere. After all, we had little for entertainment besides each other. And I wasn't event the worst one in the small group of girls from the neighbouring villages…

A pang of homesickness shot through me as I was reminded that I hadn't seen any of them in months and hadn't even said goodbye, but I subdued it. After all, I had friends here. Good friends, in fact. Casavir had proved that much. And even if he was restrained and far too pensive, he was likeable. Of course I'd thought fairly little of him on our first meeting. After all, my experience with Paladins was confined to a young initiate of Helm that had passed through West Harbour from Waterdeep. Dashingly handsome, but the second I got close enough to see he began to preach at me. Suffice to say he didn't approve of my views on most things, and was particularly wounded to learn I was no longer a whole and virtuous woman. It was painful to hear such high-handed and supercilious words from the mouth of one that should have been so charming, and so when I had met the similarly attractive Casavir it was difficult to rid myself of the conviction that he was one and the same as the Helmite. But he had yet to deliver a sermon to me on how to live my life. No wonder, I thought, as the more I talked to him the more I saw that he barely knew how to live his for all of the evidence to the contrary. But I was quite content to let him figure it out in my party. After all, he was a damn good fighter, and was proving to be charming company, if a little stiff.

I would have to get him drunk one of these days.

"Had enough of the faceless hangers-on, have you?" I knew that voice as well as I knew my own face. I hadn't even seen him but there he was, materialising from the shadows and walking towards me. He had a point, I supposed. Since the news of the trial there had been a seemingly endless parade of legal clerks and aides and, well, hangers-on, all wishing to make something out of my little predicament. It made me sick, but I brushed them off like insects and focused at the task at hand. Now with my growing fame came a growing number of people insisting I knew them or that they could help me. I hadn't yet thought of a polite, squirely way to tell them exactly where they could go. Come to think of it, I hadn't seen Bishop at the little reception Duncan had laid out for me…

"I'm going to bed. It's getting late." It clearly wasn't, I realised. It was nowhere near midnight, and now I felt his breath on my face as he came closer and I steadily grew less and less tired. Of course he knew what I was thinking. He always seemed to know.

He leaned in closer than I should have let him, but somehow I found I couldn't bring myself push him away. He had a scent that wove through my every nerve, immobilising me even as my heart beat faster and faster in my chest.

"So soon?" He said in that disarming voice of his. There was a hungry look in his eyes I knew all too well, but on him it was different somehow. In a way part of me knew was bad, but the other insisted was very, _very_ good.

"Aye…" I answered, swallowing to stop my voice from shaking. "In case you've forgotten I've had a pretty tiring couple of days." He cocked his head to one side in an amused sort of manner. The suggestion there was clear to see, but I couldn't let myself be taken in like this, even as his very presence picked away at my resolve. I was hardly a streetwalker, but an offer like the man before me was something any hot blooded woman would have found difficult to refuse, especially one with my view of such things. Had we been back in the mere I'd have barely given it a second thought before asking him where he was staying, but we weren't. After all, I always fell for men like him. I didn't expect them to want to stay past the morning, but that just made it easier to move on to another fleeting flirtation or conquest. But things were different out here, and _I_ had to be different. He waited a few seconds before leaning back as if nothing had happened and shrugged.

"Suit yourself, _squire_," he threw back at me as he walked down the hall. But something told me he knew. He wasn't defeated, and I doubted he ever would be. Wasn't even put off by the fact that I'd said no. Was…was he _teasing_ me? It seemed more than likely, I reasoned, given that glint in his eye as he left. I let go of a breath I hadn't realised I'd been holding in, and almost tripped over my own feet as I started moving again. Maybe it was my body's revenge for denying it what I'd pushed aside as soon as I left West Harbour. There was no time or room for these sorts of dalliances now…I had to be serious. I had to be a leader. I looked at myself in the mirror and my eyes widened at how flushed I looked. I touched my cheeks and they burned a bright crimson, my chest following suit. That damned ranger.

And yet I'd managed to stop myself. I must have changed since we left, though I didn't know whether or not it was for the better. The thought of the outcome of any kind of liaison with Bishop told me it probably was.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

It looked remarkably imposing, sitting there on top of a dusty, wind-picked hill littered with sacked houses, abandoned farms and overrun foliage. The Keep was like every illustrated child's fairytale, complete with circling dark clouds, skeletal, leafless trees, and probably a bat infestation. I called a brief halt right then, as we had a long climb ahead of us with the promise of a fight at the summit.

"So this is it, huh?" Shandra asked, coming up next to me. "Seems kinda…"

"Decrepit?" I offered.

"Yeah, especially if this is where the 'King of Shadows' is supposed to be." She still couldn't take his name entirely seriously, and I didn't blame her. Surely, after so many hundreds, maybe thousands of years of existence, someone somewhere could have thought up a better name than the King of Shadows. But I couldn't really voice this to anyone but her, as the sombre, dread-laden tone everyone else seemed to use made me think they wouldn't really get the irony. It was remarkable how quickly Shandra had integrated herself into the group and into her new life. She'd been completely uprooted, forced out of her home as she watched it burn down, and yet here she was, joking with me.

"We don't know it's him yet. Black Garius might just be a puppet of his." It didn't feel over yet, that was why. In my mind this was still a grand adventure, and they always followed the same sort of pattern. This didn't feel like the end, more of a…intermediate setback. Garius just _couldn't_ be the King of Shadows. Namely because _if_ he was, it was doubtful any of us would walk away alive. And I didn't feel like dying any time soon. The hero always died in the end, but then I was a _heroine_. And they always managed to survive one way or another.

The utter stupidity of my own thoughts hit me full blast and I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing out loud at myself.

"What's so funny?" Shandra demanded, leaning forwards and peering at me suspiciously. I shook my head and looked back up at the Keep.

"Nothing, nothing. Just wondering if this is it, that's all. I mean…the end."

"…Right. And that makes you laugh?" I loved her accent, always so bright and expressive even when she was furious. But then she also thought I sounded like nobility. Such a strange pair, we must have made.

"No, I…never mind."

"Sun's almost down. We should head up soon." Came a distinctly non-amused voice from somewhere near my right ear that almost made me jump. Instead, I just nodded dumbly and watched as Bishop stalked past me and scouted his eyes along the path as the others prepared themselves.

"See anyone?"

"If there's an ambush they're hiding damn well. Could just be a few guards and the main force is inside the walls. There can't be that many of them here, they wouldn't have been able to get through the Neverwinter border." All business as usual, but then words had been lacking all around as we travelled south from the city. Even Neeshka and Khelgar ceased their bickering for a few blissful hours. Grobnar didn't even offer us a song. Casavir was as silent as ever, only speaking in reply to others and concentrating on the road ahead. It must have been the way every rest we got was interrupted by some pressing matter that just simply couldn't wait, no, not even until the morning. How the hells had that man got himself kidnapped? Though I suppose I shouldn't have been that surprised, after all Aldannon barely knew who _he_ was, let alone who was and was not planning to use then kill him. I just prayed he hadn't decided to happily give all the knowledge he had locked away in that muddled head of his to some priest of eternal darkness that asked him nicely.

"Let's be on our way, then. The Cloaks should be waiting for us at the top. Maybe they took out whatever forces were around the entrances…" I mused even as we began to make our way up the mountainside. At least Nasher hadn't decided to full-on invade this place. It would be a truly spectacular army indeed that could still fight after charging up a mountainside cut with rivers in awkward places and such an uneven terrain. But somehow we would have to manage. As a squire of Neverwinter I supposed I didn't have much choice. Not that the unleashing of an epic evil upon the world didn't affect me quite personally, but it still felt too much like an order. And I hated those. I swear if the leader of the Many-Starred Cloaks made me call him 'sir' I'd throw in whatever right to nobility I had right there and then.

Thankfully, though, he didn't.

Vale was a tiny little man with long, bony fingers and a hunted expression that even made _me_ uneasy as he hurried us over to their group behind a torched farmhouse. Shandra looked particularly pained but didn't say anything, though I noticed Casavir muttering a prayer under his breath as he always did for the dead. The pungent smell of burnt hair and overdone meat wafted from one of the shattered windows but I tried to block it out as he explained the plan of action to us.

"…if we strike hard, and fast…we can defeat their main force in the courtyard and be inside the Keep before they even know what's going on." Did his ears just twitch? I didn't know elves could do that. I blinked hard to retrieve what little concentration I had from the depths of my mind and forced myself to focus. People didn't realise that us adventurers needed to sleep. That _I_ needed to sleep.

"Right…what are their numbers?" Yes, that sounded about right. I wasn't used to executing this sort of planned assault on a heavily guarded fortress. After all, who in their right minds would put someone like me in charge of anything? But here I was, and so far living by my wits had kept me and my companions alive. Something must have been going right.

"About twenty in the courtyard, so I'm sure you can handle that. Most of them are asleep anyway…" Lucky bastards. "…So you will have the element of surprise, as remember they do not even know we are aware of their presence here. There are a handful of guards inside the Keep, we believe."

"That all?"

"Well, them and the Arcane Brotherhood wizards. We don't know how many of them there are, and they'll be a challenge but…we can handle them."

"Wait, you don't know their numbers?" Neeshka asked sceptically, still lovingly stroking the ebon hilts of her brand new twin daggers.

"…. Not as such, no."

"Who cares? Nothing we can't handle, eh, Evie?" Khelgar offered with a wink from where he stood, already gripping the hilt of his hammer in anticipation.

"The Hosttower wouldn't risk sending too many wizards on a mission like this, I don't think." Sand replied suddenly. He had been strangely quiet throughout our discussions, and Torio's words to him in the trial returned to me in their fierce, accusatory entirety. I barely knew the wizard, but I liked him. I didn't care whatever demons he had in his past – unless of course they were several large, vicious demons that wanted revenge on him and his allies, which I certainly wouldn't put past him – as far as I was concerned he was powerful, decent, and I could talk to him all day. Well, I could probably talk to, or at, _anyone_ all day, but that was neither here nor there. What _was_ here was a circle of expectant faces and a job to be done. I shook the soot from my eyes and steeled myself, feeling the now familiar ripple of adrenaline crawling into my limbs.

"I see…best not to wait much longer, then." I said finally, cutting the silence that had decended. Vale nodded enthusiastically, as did a number of his underlings and especially Khelgar at the mention of battle.

"Aye, let's get to it." Vale rose and carefully risked a glance around the corner to the tall, half-destroyed gate. "The Luskans are opening the doors! We must act now!" He whipped his chiselled head back to me. "Ready?" I smiled wickedly in return.

"Always."

-+-+-+-

She didn't understand. Would she ever understand? A voice somewhere inside told me that of course she wouldn't if I couldn't even tell her what there was to know, but…I couldn't.

When the spells failed and I knew for sure, then I would do something. Then I'd tell her in no uncertain terms that there was no point in her keeping me around, because I was just another warrior with broken oaths and a failed, worthless dream. But then…she hadn't cared before, and even though it was different something told me it wouldn't trouble her anyway. How was that even possible?

I watched as she wiped the flat of her sword against her hardened leather leg guards, entirely oblivious to my thoughts or anything but the battle behind and the ones ahead. When she fought she wasn't the same person. It was as if another side took over and she became entirely serious, a creature fluid and deadly.

Her eyes were steeled ahead on the door in front of us as if she could clear a path just with her gaze. The others took their places behind her and she nodded at Vale with a gesture to the heavy wooden barrier. Without hesitation, he threw his arm forward and a ball of arcane energy rolled out like an extension of it, splintering the door instantly. She certainly liked to make an entrance.

"What…the hells is that…?" I heard Shandra's awed voice even before the thing jerked its way out of the rising fog. Its entire body looked to be forged of a strange arrangement of knives and plated armour that moved as if its sole purpose was destruction. In fact, I reflected, it probably was.

"Blade Golem." She replied, taking a step back and gritting her teeth. During our last encounter with one of them it had been a little more, well, stationary. Now, it came towards us in powerful, jerky movements with murder clearly its intent.

"Perfect…" I heard Sand murmur before he stepped back behind the line of many Stared Cloaks and readied his spells.

"Oh, my, it surely is!" The gnome started up, not seeming at all phased by its appearance. "And this one is so well-crafted, too! _Look_ at those blades! Like they could cut through stone! Mag_nificent_!"

"Not necessarily a good thing, Grobnar…" She replied through gritted teeth before jumping to one side to avoid the slice it aimed at her midsection.

And then it began, a seemingly endless succession of attacks that we could do little against but parry. Khelgar took the brunt, as he often did without much encouragement, but it kept going directly for her anyway. Luckily, her blade was large enough that it made an effective shield but she clearly wasn't used to defending. I saw that much when she fought Lorne. My blade barely scratched it as I tried to draw it away from where she was forced to a corner, and my stomach lurched in my chest as a splatter of her blood streaked the floor. With an angry cry she forced herself bodily into the creation, shoving it back with a swipe of her sword, and I saw the crimson blooming on the white of her shirt in the gaps between her leather armour on her left arm.

"Take that damn thing down!" She roared in the general direction of the spellcasters, who resumed their volley in full force as she charged forwards again with the tip of her sword scraping across the ground and sending sparks flying upwards, apparently not noticing or not caring that she was wounded. Not being a healer herself I supposed she didn't have much of a choice but to keep fighting. It was like she only felt the pain after the battle had ended, a trait I had only seen in those warriors with bloodlust or battle rages. Something I couldn't imagine of my eternally unperturbed leader, though it wasn't so farfetched as I saw her snarling now. But then there was certainly something not quite right about her. The seemingly random spells, no doubt from some distant sorcerer ancestry, the ears, the magnetism she held to everyone that she came into contact with. Yes, she was a mystery despite how open she was about herself. But, and perhaps I was being too optimistic, I thought I was beginning to understand. My focus turned to preserving my own life, however, as the golem suddenly turned to me and began an intricate dance of razor edges and large, swiping limbs.

Without warning it swivelled almost in place and obliterated the wall behind where she had stood a mere split second ago, sending shards of stone and dust littering the air around. I could see its attacks getting less and less effective as the barrage of spells beat down upon its core, and that made its movements even more shuddering and erratic. But it was still incredibly effective, perhaps even more so, as one long arm shot out at where she was now. At the last second she managed to raise her sword up to block, but it was too strong, and the blade skittered far across the cobbled flooring. She didn't even look back after it, and just concentrated on dodging the flurry of attacks that battered down on her worn arm guards. It was too far for me or one of the others to try and retrieve, either, as the corridor was relatively narrow. I could hear the heated swear words gritted out of her mouth even over the metallic clangs of battle. I saw the weakness in her left arm and wanted to heal the wound there, but knew I couldn't reach her until it was down. Khelgar's voice was still unrelenting as he kept up a constant barrage of strikes with his hammer, but like mine they did next to nothing to a thing made of sharp edges.

I was watching her get battered, and even though I, like the others, was trying to get its attention away from our leader, it seemed to have little effect. I felt as helpless as when I watched the duel.

And then, somehow, a hit from my sword connected and it faltered just long enough for her forearms to wrench apart the two appendages attacking her and land a fast, stout kick to its core as she cried out with the exertion. It stumbled back, and a second even stronger one made it topple over backwards. A final explosion of blue flame from Sand, and it was done. There was silence, broken only by the ragged breathing of the fighters. She was still in the same unarmed stance that sagged from exhaustion, then a moment past and she crumpled to the floor clutching at her ankle and grunting out more curses through her gritted teeth.

"What happened?" I asked quickly as I knelt next to her and looked for injury. It was a useless question, considering I'd seen the entire thing, but then being the only real healer in the group had infused me with several strange, new habits.

"Well…" She started, her jaw still clenched and her body stiffening as I pried her hands off her foot. "I think I broke my damn foot. Shouldn't be surprised considering I also thought it would be a great idea to kick something made of solid _bloody_ adamantine…" The healing magic came as it always did, with barely a prayer to the divine. She was the worst injured out of all of us. Somehow, she was always the main target, as well as always being the one to throw herself into danger. One day, her luck would fail and she'd get herself killed. The thing was, I wasn't sure I could bring her back. The thought terrified me, so I let it go and concentrated on the path ahead like I always did. Combat simplified things so beautifully, and if anything I thanked her for the almost constantly available chance to forget my troubles in the midst of battle. Just like I did before.

There was that wide, forever amused smile she flashed as she nodded at me in gratitude, scrambling to her feet before I could even offer her a hand.

"It's a good thing indeed that it's mostly intact. Now, we can rebuild it!" Grobnar said excitedly as he swarmed over the wreckage.

"Rebuild it? Are you bloody insa… We're not rebuilding it!" Khelgar shot back, panting. For once, Neeshka agreed with him and nodded repeatedly.

"Well not _now_, of course, I mean that _would_ be silly. I was talking about _later_, once we've dealt with whatever it is we're dealing with in here." There was a long, drawn-out sigh from her direction as she listened to Grobnar, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Maybe. Yes. Sure. Once we're done I'll lock you in a room with the blade golem and you can try to make it dance for us." She said exasperatedly.

"That thing was going for you." Bishop added as he shouldered his bow and stared at her in that dark, predatory way he did that made my hands ball into fists and my words curt and too sanctimonious. "If the doorstop wants to rebuild it he'd better make sure it doesn't start after its target again…" What could have been simple concern for another's safety from anyone else reeked of self-preservation and selfish interest from the ranger. Or perhaps that was just what I wanted to think. I barely knew anymore.

"Oh, don't worry! Yes, I can see here there's a fairly simple interface…oh my, I wonder what would happen if I pressed…"

"Oh for the love of…" Neeshka quipped under her breath, shaking her head and stepping past the scene to scan the area ahead for hidden wires.

"We're going. You can play with it later, after…" She trailed off as a pained look crossed her face. I felt a wave of discomfort ripple through my body like the after effects of a disease, and my weapon suddenly felt heavier. Her eyes shot open and she picked up her blade purposefully. "The ritual. They're almost done, I can feel it. The effects are…getting worse." She looked up at the door that the golem had burst open, eyes fixed on the corridor beyond. "We have to hurry."

-+-+-+-

"You may not pass, Evelyn Ashcroft." Samine said to me as if she were in a dream or the mindless haze of thraldom. I suspected the latter wasn't too far off. She was tall and willowy, with coal black hair and an aura of cold, the sockets of her eyes pale and hollow as she regarded me as a curious little plaything. "Our King, he forbids it. Garius will be reborn this night." The smile that pulled her lips as if with fishhooks was anything but soothing. She wasn't looking directly at me, rather at a point somewhere to the left of my head. Her hands raised, and I felt the magic skitter through the air.

"What? What do you mean, reborn?" It worked, her arms lowered and she bent her head to one side as she spoke in a vacant tone that somehow thrived with ecstasy.

"Reborn unto darkness…freed from his mortal shell…He will join with the King of Shadows, become one with the eternal dark! Ever living, ever serving!" So Garius wasn't the King of Shadows after all. I had been right, this must have been just a slight bump in the road to the end. Garius would fall tonight, and then, soon, we would face the real enemy. That was how it always went, and why should this time be any different? The thought of a destiny spelt out before me, dictating how this would progress and ultimately end, wasn't as comforting as it should have been. I hated not being able to choose. I was already a squire, what would I be painted up as next?

"So an undead, then. Rather fancy way of putting it, but alright." I heard the rustle of scrolls and the notching of arrows from behind me. We hadn't been expecting Samine and her troupe, and all in all I thought I was doing an excellent job of stalling.

"Undead…?" Her eyes floated up to the heavens and that same smile worked its way onto her angular mouth. I didn't know what she was on, but whatever it was I wanted some. Or not, probably, as I saw the wan tones of her skin and protruding bones. That couldn't be healthy. "Words, words, nothing more. To become one with the King, to join his cause…it is not to become some shambling corpse…" I glanced pointedly at the row of shambling corpses behind her, but she didn't seem to notice. She sounded like that Cyricist I'd heard once, raving for all to hear about his one, true, utterly insane God. "Leave your words, and see the truth for the glory that it is! Light…light is the illusion, shadow is truth. Our _King_ is truth! Becoming an extension of his will…is that not a reward…Evelyn? Is that not truly…paradise?" her lips were an off-purple hue as they puckered out her last words like a puppet. Then again, I suppose she was nothing more than a pawn to begin with.

"If that's paradise…I'm quite happy being damned, thank you." There was a god for every personal little nuance, and it just so happened that I wasn't going to adjust my whole world view just to fit with Lathander or Mystra or whoever it was I was supposed to worship. If a god demanded that I gave myself and everything I believed up completely to follow them then it wasn't a god I wanted to be saved by. Mortals were such fools, yes. But what could I be but mortal? At least Sune would praise what so many thought was immoral, what so many over pious priests had lectured me about. And as for this King of hers, I'd rather live in the hells than in what he took to be heaven.

"Then may he forgive your ignorance…Evelyn…Ashcroft…" I hated how she said my name, pronouncing every little syllable like jagged teeth crunching down on a morsel. "It is not too late for you…"

"Stand aside or die. I won't ask again." I spoke with far more assurance than I felt as I heard Neeshka falling into the shadows around her, Sand's voice beginning a long incantation, and Bishop's dual swords drawn from their sheathes like silk sliding over bare skin.

Samine's face immediately twisted unnaturally, contorting like kneading dough as she scowled, crying out to her minions in an abyssal tongue that mingled with the holy words delivered by Casavir next to me as he pushed the shadows back. A volley of spells and projectiles hurtled over my head as I charged forward, blade in hand. Samine leapt back and snarled an unoriginal but still chilling battle cry.

"In the name of the King!"

-+-+-+-

Garius was gone, vanished in a flash of light amidst his own screams. I hoped he was dead so Luskan could be out of the equation, but I doubted it, somehow. Things were never that simple when she was involved. As he disappeared the sheen of darkness that covered this run-down place lifted, and even I felt the benefits of the ritual ending.

He'd been watching her like he always did, like a dog hoping for a scrap of meat. It was pathetic to witness, especially the way she barely even noticed. Even now he tended to her relatively few wounds before he saw to his own, as if she were entirely incapable and needed him to do it for her. Did he even realise how much of a fool he looked? It would have made me laugh if I was in the mood for laughing.

That damned bard was saying something at her about the golem before, and as she went about hurriedly looting the bodies with the tiefling she gave him short, tired answers that anyone else would have taken as a cue to stop talking there and then. Politeness never got you anywhere, something I thought she knew.

"Shut up, gnome." I said as I collected any intact arrows. He did so, which surprised me, and scurried off somewhere after those mages that had followed us and kept getting in the way. Even now their spineless leader was whining about us leaving this instant. I could feel the Paladin's disapproval and relished it. He could think as ill of me as he liked. It didn't matter.

"Please…we must go. This place is not safe…"

"It's stayed up this long, it'll hold a few seconds longer, Vale…" She grumbled under her breath. Hells, I'd thought he was supposed to be the one in charge here and there he was taking orders from her as if she owned the damn place. People fell in line so quickly. Sure, she was pretty easy to follow as leaders went. And a hell of a lot easier on the eyes than the others I'd fallen in with out of necessity.

But I knew I was in control. I knew that the second I called her 'my lady' and meant any part of it like that idiot Paladin, I'd be miles away.

Even before she knew I'd left.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

During the day the Keep was a mess. The sunlight picked out every scorch mark on the yellow earth, every brick reduced to crumbling dust, even the buildings had their roofs all but caved in. It was the same thing that had loomed up before us just a few days ago, but this time it looked somewhat less daunting and more…collapsible.

Crossroad Keep was run-down and completely neglected, but I saw hope there. It hadn't, in fact, buckled down on us as we fled from the ritual chamber, so that was a definite plus. It looked quite sturdy, actually, just a little, well… worse for wear. That, and I could see right to the front door through the outer three walls.

"I know what you're thinking." Said Nevalle in that practised, easy tone of his. "It's certainly seen better days…and it will again."

"What happened to it?" I asked, picking my way over the fallen debris as he brought me through the large gate leading to the outer courtyard. I was greeted with patches of dead grass littered like hair on a balding man, what was almost an entire village-full of dilapidated buildings, and one hell of a job ahead of me. I had been too focused on completing the task at hand that I'd barely noticed the buildings and the sheer _size_ of the place before. And, as usual, no one would tell me what was going on. I heard Neeshka sigh expansively behind me and didn't blame her in the slightest. Being dragged up here for a second time just to take in the sights wasn't quite what we'd had in mind after our recent heroics. I was surprised Bishop had even bothered to come, what with his snide objections to anything the Nine had in store for us. But there he was, barely a few paces behind and watchful as ever.

"The Keep was destroyed during the first war with the King of Shadows many years ago." Nevalle started again as if reading from a book. "It was where the central battle was fought, and, after a brave effort, was eventually taken. It was a dark time for Neverwinter…but we persevered. As you have, and will have to in the future." I didn't much like the sound of that. Perseverance was what we Harbourmen were all about, but I was just about reaching the end of my tether what with being jerked around by Neverwinter. If they had dragged me here just for a history lesson or to tell me that I was being shuffled under someone else's command I would start throwing things at him right there and then, because he was the personification of everything I couldn't let myself be. I'd rot in jail before I became a bootlicking servant to any Lord. Alright, Nasher _was_ pretty special as Lords went, and I _did_ owe them for the trial, but…damn it all, it just wasn't fair. It felt like I was being blackmailed, forced into this thing because fate felt like whoring around a little and was using _me_ as currency.

I took a deep breath to calm myself down, reminding my inner child that jumping to these sorts of random conclusions was always what got me into trouble as I raved everything about nothing. I'd wait and hear his offer like the reasonable adult I was supposed to be before getting myself worked up.

A tall, broad man walked past us, apparently oblivious to the gathering and shouldering a thick plank of wood while wiping off the sheen of sweat from his forehead that glistened in the sun. As I scanned the place, I saw that there were more of them dotted around the area, some clearing away ancient rubble, some putting up new supports for roofs and second stories, some bent over scrolls with an array of measuring instruments.

"It's being rebuilt, then…" I said slowly, more to myself than anyone else. Possibilities opened up in front of me like the fruits of a blossoming tree and I saw this place in its former, idyllic glory, with flags flying, chimneys smoking, and soldiers arming the battlements.

"Aye, it is." He cleared his throat purposefully and began to speak to me in a proud, authoritative voice. "I have brought you back here under orders, Evelyn Ashcroft. Lord Nasher has a new task for you." I suspected I knew already. Normally being asked something as big as this would have annoyed me to no end, particularly given the forced nature of my allegiance with them, but now, as all thoughts of grudging duty and scraping to fools flew out the window, I couldn't stop the smile that pricked at the corners of my mouth as I thought how surreal this all was. There had always been an element of none of this being quite genuine, like at any second now I'd wake up and find I'd just fallen asleep again after reading for too long, and I'd be back in my tiny bedroom in my blissfully warm half-underground house and none of this would have happened.

A flash of platemail made me look to my left, only to see Casavir standing there as still as always. His arms were folded and his face was solemn as he regarded what I supposed was to be our home from now on. I wondered how he felt about that, following me around wherever I went. I supposed he didn't really have anywhere else, not really feeling comfortable back in Neverwinter and never speaking of his family, if indeed he had one at all.

Perhaps once things got underway I'd pay a visit to the Well, and see if they still needed his old soldiers now that there was almost no threat from the orcs there. Maybe even ask Katriona, his impeccable sergeant, if she wanted to give us a hand. The thought was an entirely innocent and offhanded one, but something about it I just didn't like, though I couldn't for the life of me think why. She looked a little like Shandra, I remembered, despite the fact that I could see little of my companion's outspoken vivacity in the spotless soldier I'd met before. But I was getting ahead of myself, of course. Nevalle hadn't even told me what my mission was yet.

"These people, they are now yours to command as you see fit." He continued. "You are now their Captain, in the service of Neverwinter." A pang shot through me as that final clarification reminded me that I still wasn't my own. I'd always wanted to be a Captain, be in charge and get things done my way, but…not in the service of some city I'd only sort-of lived in for barely four, five months. No matter, I'd do what they said...for now. This kind of overbearing authority always left a bad taste in my mouth but I knew that if I wanted to do what needed to be done to resolve this, I'd have to bow and scrape and do everything I hated. Besides, part of me was still buzzing with the idea that this place was mine. _Mine_. When I looked back on this in a few days' time I'd curse myself for being such an easily manipulated fool and I'd start looking for an escape from this new life, but for now…I was rather enjoying it, actually. I was a Captain. It would have been unbelievable if Nevalle hadn't spelt it out so perfectly.

"Make this Keep ready for war, gather troops to your service, and, most importantly, be prepared to strike when this enemy finally reveals itself. The threat is far from gone, Captain Ashcroft, and this is only the beginning."

It felt like the first time Georg sent out a patrol and somehow thought it would be a great idea to put me in charge. But I did it, and I did it well. I was doing it now, in fact, leading around my little band of recruits like real adventurers. Now I had a whole Keep full of them. It would take _more_ than a few days to get used to that idea. Back then it had been about something I really cared about – the safety of my village. Selfishly, I cared rather less for the safety of Neverwinter, but was smart enough to know that whatever this threat turned out to be, it wouldn't stop there, and had to be taken out as soon as possible. And…if they thought it was right to put me in charge of that, then…so be it.

He led us around the curve of the path through the courtyard and a woman walked stiffly into view. Her hair was pulled back into an iron-cast bun and her face was similarly schooled. "To help you manage the Keep, you have been assigned an officer by Lord Nasher. This is Kana."

Kana's uniform was so starched that it didn't so much fold as crack at the edges and the contours of her body like a piece of paper as she nodded at me clinically. This was going to be less than pleasant, I imagined.

"Good morning, Captain!" Said an enthusiastic and breathless voice from behind me that certainly wasn't from the thin-lipped officer I'd been leant for the time being. Suddenly, my hand was claimed hastily and a short, fat arrangement of lenses and toolbelts came into view. I'm sure there was a face somewhere underneath those huge spectacles but couldn't think where it would fit. "Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Veedle and I'm in charge of rebuilding this _beautiful_ place!" I really, really hoped him and Grobnar never met. I wouldn't get a second's rest. "And it will be _such_ a pleasure, too, just _look_ at the potential here! All that is required, of course, is a little funding here and there but a _fine_ lady like you shouldn't have _any_ trouble at all what with—"

"_And_ Master Veedle has been contracted to help you rebuild the Keep and its surrounding lands." Nevalle interrupted smoothly, shooting a look at Veedle that made him bow quickly and scuttle off back to his table, laden with parchment and an assortment of measuring devices that probably exceeded the hundreds mark. Nevalle stood in front of me, Kana positioned perfectly just to one side, and spoke in that booming, official voice to the assembled crowd but looked specifically at me. "You are this Keep's Master, Evelyn. You have earned it – through service and blood, you have earned my trust...and that of Lord Nasher." Even if he was telling the truth, they hadn't yet earned mine. I didn't think they ever would, completely. "This is your land now. Defend it, for the sake of your people, and the sake of Neverwinter." Oh Gods, I had people. _My_ _people_. This was wrong. My people lived in a swamp to the south. I didn't know any of the men and women that now looked at me expectantly.

Everyone else was, too, and I realised why as my eyes turned back to Nevalle and saw he was saluting, as was Kana. This was too much...

"Good luck, Captain." He said rapidly, his face so serious it was like a parody of procedure. I saluted back as quickly and as discretely as I could to make them stop, hearing a snort from behind me indicate that Bishop also thought I looked a fool. If I'd seen myself from a year ago, even six months ago, I would have laughed out loud. Sure, I'd been a militawoman, but that was different, somehow. We didn't have to salute, for one thing.

That githzerai moved from behind me to stand next to Kana, her veil still covering the leathery, greenish skin that stretched over a sawn-off face. It was still difficult to look at any gith and not instinctively go for the weak spots. But I trusted her, even as she looked at me with those penetrating amber eyes that said she knew more about me and the state of the world than I ever would. Aye, I'd trust her and her motives, but never a city. Never a crown or a flag or a noble that thought they could command me. But here the two intertwined, and I'd have to at least accept Neverwinter's intentions for the time being. The sad thing was that until I could afford a Keep of my own I'd have to rely on the charity of my now-commanders. We all had the same enemy, the same goals, and I wasn't above gritting my teeth and getting on with it in order to do what was right.

For now.

The others dissipated around me, until there was only Zhjaeve and Kana before me. I dismissed the officer, telling her to return to her duties, whatever they were, and turned to the cleric. Well, this was it. And, from the looks of her, it would take a while.

-+-+-+-

I stepped inside the 'inn' with a little trepidation, uncertain of what I'd see considering the Keep had been all but abandoned a few days ago. To my immense surprise, it had been cleared out, the stairs were being repaired even now, and Sal waved at me from over his bar made of crates and planks of wood. A scattering of empty ale kegs stood in as stools, and, to my total _lack_ of surprise, on the farthest, drink in hand, sat Bishop.

"Hullo, Evie!" The barman greeted cheerily, though he stood up a little straighter as I approached and continued, more seriously. "I mean, uh…Captain Ashcroft." I shook my head at him as I leaned on the bar, which creaked ominously.

"Evelyn'll do, Sal." I said dryly. My conversations with Kana and Zhjaeve had drained me clean of laughter as I realised the magnitude of the task ahead of me. "Usual, if you've got it."

"Ah, at least yer taste ain't changed, Evelyn." He winked as he disappeared beneath the bar.

"So…how are you here, exactly? Not that I'm not overjoyed, just…I thought you worked for Duncan."

"Aye, that I did." His voice was muffled over the sounds of bottles clinking together as he rummaged in carefully packed crates and scanned the array of liquids under the bar. "But, you know, always wanted a place of my own. And though Duncan might have wanted to there's no way he'd give up the best inn that side of the city for somewhere like this." He reappeared, the same scarlet, misty drink I loved in hand. "Not that the Keep won't be a thing of real beauty once you're done with it, I'm sure. I've got big plans for the inn, make it somewhere people'll really want to go, bring some merchants, get the rooms looking nice…" he folded his arms and smiled wistfully. "With yer leave, of course. Was told I couldn't do a thing without yer approval. By that lady, whassername, Kar…"

"Kana?"

"That's the one. Real strict about it, too."

"Well, Sal, tell her you have my approval for whatever you want to do. This place is yours as far as I'm concerned. Just find me a place to sleep for the night and I'll be happy." He grinned.

"Thanks so much, Evelyn. Knew I could count on you. Must be a great reward, eh? A whole Keep like this, especially after everything you've done. Heck, I'd be surprised if they didn't _knight_ you soon enough." A snort of laughter to my right didn't go unnoticed. I felt the red creeping up my face.

"I think I'll outstay my welcome soon enough. For now…I'm just relieved to be alive."

"Aye, well take care of yourself, will you?" I nodded with a smile, feeling a little more at home. Grabbing my drink, I made my way over to where Bishop sat, not looking at me but his mouth, twisted into a smirk, told me he was very much aware of my presence.

"Something you want, _milady_?" A treacherous part of my brain immediately came up with several very unsuitable replies as the low, temptation-riddled voice sent shivers down my spine. I took a deep, steady breath to respond, but he looked up and spoke first, those amber-flecked eyes blisteringly intense. "Or should that be the _great_ Captain of Crossroad Keep? What could she possibly want with her humble tracker?" He shook his head, chuckling as he took a swig of his drink.

"Humble? Bishop you're about as meek as I am." I shot back, rolling my eyes. He shoved out a barrel with his foot from under the makeshift table, which I took as a signal to sit.

"It's a simple question, Captain." Somehow he injected enough malice into the title to make me feel suitably stupid. I hated that he could do that.

"Stop that." I said in a low, unsteady voice.

"Why? There's no mockery here, just addressing you with your new title."

"Captain?"

"A lapdog for Nasher, more like." He knew he was getting to me. That last comment made my nails dig into my palms.

"Stop it."

"Is that a command? Or are we just in a bad mood this morning?" He sneered, his eyebrows following his mocking expression entirely on their own. "Maybe the promotion wasn't big enough…"

"Bishop—"

"…Hard to tell, now, what with you being a _noble_ and all."

"I'm common as muck and you know it, all right?" I barely managed to get in. "Just because I'm a Captain doesn't mean I'm any different. I'm the same person I was before."

"Oh really? Then how is it you're now clawing up the ranks of the Neverwinter aristocracy like those harpies in the court? Is that what you want for the rest of your life? A squire by your side, a flag that's not your own, and some code of chivalric honour to live up to?"

"Is that what you think of me, then?"

"Don't want to, understand. Not that nice thinking that the woman I'm taking orders from isn't any better than those Knights you salute or that idiot Paladin."

"Would it kill you to leave Casavir out of this for once?" I said exasperatedly. I'd been wrong about him, I knew. Just like I'd been wrong about so many things.

"Since when do you care what holier-than-thou thinks? Hells, I still think you should leave him stuck in a forest somewhere with only his lies and self-righteousness to keep him company…but of course as always, I'll leave that up to your _sound_ judgement, Captain. Or whatever that frigid officer of yours thinks would be _respectable_ enough for the nobles..."

"Oh _Gods_, Bishop, do you really think I care for Neverwinter or the nobility beyond the pay package? I mean…look around, I have my own _castle_. I've always wanted one of these. Sure I'd have ridiculed myself if I thought _this_ was how I got it but, if you'll recall, there was never much of a choice with any of it."

"You always had a choice. You still do, in fact. No one says you have to be here. You're one to talk about breaking the rules when you fall in line at the first possible chance. No one's making you be here but yourself." It hit me suddenly that he was right. Fate wasn't so overpowering. I was just agreeing like a good little servant…

"I have to." I replied suddenly and without thinking. It was painfully true, though, and I had to face up to it. "I don't know what it is I have to do, but the Gith seems to, and for now I'm trusting her because she's the only one that knows how to stop this thing. I've got the shard inside me, and so like it or not I'm part of it."

"That offer still stands, you know." He said after a while in that low, hushed voice of his that always took me off guard. He didn't even need to say what he meant, the tone said everything for him. And oh _gods_ how I wanted to give in. It would be so much easier – and, I concluded, a lot more enjoyable – than resisting. "If this King of Shadows is so powerful what makes you think _you've _got a chance in the Hells? Eventually it'll kill you if you keep going. That's how it works. If you order me to do _anything_, ask me to take you out of this place and to somewhere this enemy has never heard of. It's the only way that makes sense."

"I…I can't. You know that. I just got here." I said quietly, not able to meet his eyes in case I regretted my words.

"Of course, of course. Hate to see you abandon everything you've worked _so_ hard for, Captain." And in an instance he was mocking again, and I was left to wonder if that had been him or not.

"Stop it. I mean it, Bishop. I'm still the same person I was when you met me, I can't have changed that much."

"People only insult you if you let them, and right now you're looking pretty damn insulted so I'm guessing you know I'm right." I was thrown again, and for once I didn't have a cutting reply because he was completely right. What's more, he evidently knew it.

"Yes, I do. And I'm not happy with how things have turned out, but I'm not leaving. Other than that the best course of action is to pay a few salutes and get a Keep out of it. You've known me for long enough, I'd hope, to realise that I'm _not_ like those Knights, and I'm not about to change. I'm still just me, alright? Is that so hard to believe?" I wasn't sure if that was true, though I really, really hoped it was. If not for my sake than for the sake of the rebellious little child inside of me that I wouldn't let die any time soon.

"Maybe not, but sometimes…it gets difficult to tell past those words of yours. Makes me suspicious, that's all." He replied, calculating and guarded again.

"I'd ask you to kill me before I swore allegiance to anyone but myself if I didn't have to. It's better than mindlessly following what someone else thinks is right. That good enough for you?"

"Believable, I suppose…" He sat forward suddenly, a threat in his tone that didn't so much put me on edge as fascinate that same, pushy voice that told me to take what I wanted and take it now, "But I'm telling you, you treat me like one of your _soldiers_ or your lackeys and you'll regret it. And Gods help you if you try to order me about like one. I'm my own man, got it? Don't even know why I'm still here, must just be more interesting than anything else that's come up."

"Really?" The question came unbidden, and from the hardening of his eyes it wasn't particularly welcome. He looked at me for a long, curious moment then shook his head slowly, his jaw tight and a warning in his voice.

"Don't start that. If you want me to stay here, don't bring it up. That, or your uncle, or whatever the hells you think it is you're doing." He took one last swig of his drink and drained it. "Now that it? Or you got some orders for me?" And then as if nothing had happened he was the same man I'd met in the Flagon, closed-off and entirely indifferent.

"Nothing this time. Don't want to have to think about much else but getting the Keep to look like it hasn't been abandoned for the past twenty years." I smirked, trying to lighten the mood but he would have none of it.

"Well good luck with that, _Captain_. Just don't give me an excuse to put you out of your misery. You're far more interesting alive."

"I'll…bear that in mind." I didn't know if heard me as he walked away, though he probably did what with those ranger ears of his. I was beginning to think that maybe having my very own tracker was becoming more trouble than it was worth, but I knew that it was something I'd very happily put up with.

I hated that I missed the sound of his voice once it was gone. I probably should have thought him as repulsive as the others, but I couldn't. It was a complete mess, just like I was. Men like him were always the ones I fell for, and it never ended well because they didn't stick around to fall for me. But I knew I wouldn't let anything happen. I liked to think I was smarter than _that_, at the very least. I had a mission to do. A job. And even though I might have convinced myself I'd be as dispassionate as he was if I took him up on that tantalising offer I knew was always open, it would never happen. I couldn't even think of it for fear of it looking like a good idea. And right about now...it was pretty inviting. How long had it been since I was with a man I actually desperately wanted...

I tallied up the months, and as the figure grew larger and larger the wistful little smile on my face melted into horrified shock.

'_Far, far too long.'_

Well, _that_ was depressing. But still. It didn't matter how desperate I was, I wasn't that person anymore, and I wouldn't let something so silly get in the way of what I had to do. Hells, I had a _real_ job now, I was in charge of people and it seemed like most of Neverwinter were counting on me to sort this threat out...and however much I didn't want to be the one in charge, better that than answer to someone else. At least this way I was the one in charge of the Keep, and the only people I had to answer to essentially wanted the same thing as I did. And I was right. I couldn't just run off with him, I was as much a part of this as the Keep itself, what with the shard lodged in my chest like a birthmark from the abyss.

That shard...I didn't know how I felt about it anymore. At first it had been such a shock, and then it all started to make sense. That was why I had to be the one to leave, that was why all these things kept happening to me...so I could be the one to end it, like I was doing now. I was like one of those people whose lives were to be documented along with what incredible thing they did and all the oblivious citizens whose lives they saved. Those people fortune chose and placed neatly onto a chessboard along with impossible odds and the even more impossible means to overcome them. It was fun for a while, thinking that I could be a great hero like the ones I always read about. But I wasn't a hero - not even close. I was one of the most selfish, egoistical, and all around not very praiseworthy people I knew. Sure, I could take the West Harbour militia on a patrol, but...Gods, lead an army? I didn't know who Nasher thought I was, but he was clearly wrong.

And barely a few hours ago I'd been grinning at the possibility of having my very own Keep and my very own men and my very own personal _town_ to take care of. I didn't even know what I wanted. Even that was a lie, because I knew exactly what it was I wanted at that moment and he had just walked out of the door. I shook my head and reminded myself of all the hundreds of very valid reasons why that was an atrocious idea. Still, it spoke volumes about what kind of a leader I was that I sat in a bar, drinking and thinking about bedding one of my companions when I had several thousand Captain-ish tasks waiting for me back inside the main walls.

'_Yes. Clearly a terrible mistake on Nasher's part. I'll make sure to tell him after I'm done with all this…if I'm alive that is.'_

Well, I'd deal with that issue another time. I didn't know when, but just…not now.


	10. Chapter 10

**A.N - Thanks so much for the reviews, everyone. It's nice to know people are reading this and that I'm not just writing to take up cyberspace :D. ****Hajnalmadar - you're quite right, the genre is half romance, and that will become a larger part of the story in later chapters (pretty soon, actually ;) ), I'm just taking a while to lay the groundwork.  
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**Chapter Ten**

I heard her name on the lips of the guards as she rode into view through the gates. The large, iron-hemmed wooden entrance was a new addition, the old ones having been blown apart before only to be rebuilt barely a day ago, strong as ever. The Keep had been under her command for a while now, and the men that called her Captain wore their faded tabards, rusted armour and primitive weapons with pride. Many of them were new recruits, having been inspired by the sergeants she'd sent out to the neighbouring villages, and were still being trained, but showed an enthusiasm for the cause that boded well for the future. As for her, she'd been gone for a few days to Neverwinter. Her excuse was official business, but as I saw the self-satisfied smiles lighting up Shandra and Neeshka's faces, as well as the markedly pristine-looking items they carried with them, another explanation seemed far more likely.

Her horse stamped its feet irritably as she called it to a halt. She'd come back with the mare a week or two ago, apparently having seen her in a stable and not leaving until she had been bought. Nella was a tall, proud, bad-tempered bay mare who apparently hated being kept waiting, which seemed to suit her new owner fine. Her head turned suddenly, and she saw me, a small smile lighting up her face as she dismounted to an angry protest from her horse. But a few words into her twitching ears and a stroke of her honey-coloured mane and she reluctantly trotted off with a terrified-looking stable hand that had rushed forward to help. I watched as she spoke a few quick words to Neeshka, who nodded, still beaming, and headed up towards the Keep. It was strange how even the most unruly bended to her service. Maybe it was because she was one of them, and in her they saw a little of themselves. I realised she was walking towards me, and I put down the long, slender blade I caressed with a whetstone. She was still smiling, and as she neared spread her arms wide and did a twirl mid-step as she reached me.

"So, what do you think?" She asked cheerily. I had barely noticed that her normal leather and cloth armour was gone, replaced by an intricate, durable-looking set of plate mail that had obviously been fitted to her form perfectly, and though the chest piece and gloves were missing the set was clearly one of great beauty and craftsmanship. "Got it with the gold I had left after Veedle bled me dry to do up the walls. Worth it, though." She added, twisting around to inspect it.

"Aye…it looks it. A great investment." Something struck me suddenly. "The gold you gave Veedle…was it yours?"

"Well, technically, the 'allowance' Nasher gives for repairs isn't anywhere close to what's needed, sadly, but there's not much else I can do with the gold I have so I'd rather the Keep is able to withstand a strong gust of wind than have the extra money burning a hole in my pocket." Still grinning, she began to unbuckle the shoulder pieces and arm guards. "Besides, I've got everything I need already. Alright, so there are many more things I might _want_, but to be honest…I've got things pretty good, here. A roof over my head, decent food, a bar, good friends…what more could I ask for?" She dropped down on a low stack of paving stones opposite me, and placed the pieces of her armour on the ground, rolling her shoulders back with a sigh.

"It will take some getting used to." I started, remembering how sore I was the first day I had to fight in full plate armour. "But it will become much easier. And it is good that you are protecting yourself, at least." She nodded, pulling her hair, loosened from its braid by riding, back and twisted it away from her face.

"Aye, I figured I'd take a page out of _your_ book and actually be sensible about my armour. Clunky as it is, it works. I had the others 'test' it, before. It'll take a while before I'm completely at ease in it, like you say, but better discomfort than death…" It was good that she was facing up to it. She was always the one in danger, and every time a blade barely missed the open spots on her last, less practical, set of leathers, my stomach lurched. I had been a soldier long enough to know the importance of a leader, let alone a Captain, though I was starting to accept that that was by no means the only reason for my concern. She cocked her head to one side with a small, encouraging smile. "You ok?"

Something _was_ on my mind, but she couldn't have known that. Unless I was easier to read than I thought. Or if she just knew me too well. I couldn't tell her though, that wouldn't be in either of our favours. She didn't need to know that she was the one I looked for in battle, and that she was the one I looked out for like a new recruit rather than a clearly seasoned warrior and my leader, and that the idea of duty was fast becoming an afterthought, not a priority. Or any of the other things that stormed in my mind and clouded my judgement. I turned to her too much already, and this was something I'd get through myself.

"I am fine, my lady. I am just...thinking about what it is we will be called on to do next." It wasn't a complete fabrication. There were no new orders aside from the usual patrols, and with the Githyanki we'd rescued still pinpointing our next destination, the future was hazy. Her smile widened, and she shook her head at me amusedly.

"You know, you really need to relax. You're doing a great job where you are, so let me worry about what happens next." She didn't seem to be worrying at all. Everything that hit her just bounced off as if it was nothing, and it was good that she was so thick-skinned, but part of me wondered how long it would last. I'd been in enough battles, in enough armies to know that it would get far, far worse before it got better. A lot more people would die, thousands more if it was anything like the scale of the last war I'd only heard of in the tales of veterans. But I wouldn't let her be one of them. My life was already one long battle that was growing more and more complex. Hers shouldn't have to be.

"Perhaps you are right. I believe it is because I am not used to such...long periods of relative inactivity." Patrols were nothing, and gave me far too much time to think, and with my thoughts came insecurities and doubts that I couldn't let take over. Not this time.

"Take it up with Khelgar. He's like a grumpy little child; it's been so long since our last battle. _I_, for one, am enjoying the break. Gives me a chance to catch up on a little sleep. Don't want to say _too_ much, though, in case the Gods decide to end it early." She winked conspiratorially, as if they were all around watching and waiting for her to tempt fate, and I couldn't help a chuckle.

She opened her mouth to say more, still with a smile on her face, but paused as a soldier came over, eagerly offering to take her things back to the inn as he had finished tending to her horse. Her expression was uncertain, though still dazzling as she handed the bags she'd set down on the ground into his open hands. With a bow, he was gone and she turned back to me with a wry smirk on her face.

"They all still think I'm some over-fed, inbred, pampered noblewoman who got bored of the court and fancied herself an adventurer, you know. Even if they don't say it it's obvious. What do you think _that_ was? " She jerked her head at the still retreating figure who carried her belongings like they were made of a particularly precious make of glass. "Like Shandra they probably think I've just been shipped from Neverwinter to run this place because I've a head for numbers or something. Can't blame them for not taking me too seriously, though." Her incredibly expressive face was now turned to one side with a wry smirk on the dark coral lips that closed over her strong white teeth, a testament to her mixed, presumably Elvish heritage.

"They _do_ take you seriously, my lady. They would not respect you or look up to you as they do, otherwise." Even I had noticed how the men rippled to attention as her quick steps echoed past, how they bowed when she addressed them, how even the greenest recruits knew to salute. If that wasn't reverence for their Captain I couldn't think what was. The smile that hadn't moved from her face now became amused, like she knew something I didn't but wasn't about to illuminate me. I was probably better off not knowing.

"Sure, I'm a figurehead, and I'm just about getting used to the idea that _I'm_ supposed to be in charge around here, but they don't think of me as a leader, I'll tell you that much. I mean, if you've ever seen the way even the most _respectable_ soldiers act when there's even one lady in their company..." She winked again, and I understood.

"Oh," Was, idiotically, the only thing I could think of. She laughed, and shook her head.

"Yes. I'm not saying it's unbearable; rather it's quite nice at the beginning and whenever I feel like being frail. But in the end there comes a point where all you want to do is have people respect you for what you can do instead of what you are, you know? If I was some grizzly half-orc, I doubt they'd be so eager or so courteous, but they'd listen when it counted, and I need _soldiers_ not footmen."

"Aye, I see what you mean. Surely that will come in time, though. When they see that you are worthy of your Captainship." I knew that she herself didn't think she was worthy, but she shrugged this off and answered neutrally.

"Perhaps." A gleam appeared in her eyes. "In the mean time I'll have to rely on _you_ to be my right-hand man. They listen to you, at least. Shandra's right, heroes don't come from swamps, they're born in magical, animated cities like Neverwinter. That's where things _really_ happen. And you must be from a city, I can tell. You're smart enough to keep quiet when it counts, and you actually think things through instead of just sort of…making plans up as you go along, like me. So are you?" I'd never spoken about my past, aside from the temple of Tyr in Neverwinter. I suppose she could have deduced it from that, but something told me she guessed the second she met me, like she could see past everything I used to try and separate myself from others.

"I grew up in Neverwinter, yes. In the order run by the monks and priests of Tyr." Grew up was probably a better term than 'raised', as there wasn't much of that in the order. Children were taken from the streets, from the overflowing orphanages, and taught the ways of the God of Justice. It was something I was eternally thankful for, as I was well aware of my chances of survival anywhere else, but I'd never quite felt at home there, not even as I became older and pledged myself to the service of Tyr as a paladin.

"Just grew up? Were you sent there by your family?"

"I do not know. My earliest memories are of the temple, and there is no record they know of concerning my birth or my parents, so I have no real family to speak of. Though this was during the time of the plague and the first War of Shadow, so it was not uncommon." I said, remembering that the woman in front of me was born exactly a year before the war ended, and so it must have been on her first birthday that she got the scar she retained to this day. It must have been fate that she was to be the one to end this second coming of darkness.

"Have you ever tried to find out about them? Like where you come from? I mean, I knew you were from a city but I didn't think _Neverwinter_." I furrowed my brow, wondering what was so strange about that notion. "Well you _really_ don't look like a Neverwinter man. They're not known for their charms, just their tailors, if you catch my drift." I tried not to read too much into what she said, and thought about her question.

"It is…not something I've given much thought to. There are thousands of orphans, and too many dead parents to match them with. Besides, even if I could find out who my family are, there may be none left, or I may not like what I find."

"Understandable. Though even so, I'd give anything to know more about my mother, Daeghun's so tight-lipped about her, but then at least I know who she is, and he's told me enough to know that she was a good woman. An adventurer, apparently, though that's all he's said. I had a feeling you were an orphan, but you just seem too well adjusted to have grown up without parents. But then I'm one to talk. _My_ father isn't exactly the most loving, or social, or charismatic…" She trailed off, mirroring the description that Duncan had given of her foster father.

"Then it is remarkable he raised you as you are."

"Astonishing, ain't it?" She said with a grin as she cocked her head to one side. Again, I didn't know whether she was being sarcastic or not. "But I shouldn't be so harsh on him. He was a good man, and I never wanted for anything. I had a wonderful childhood, I wouldn't have traded it for the world. But then, well, fate makes fools of us all, and this whole…_thing_…just happened." She scowled, and the mood was suddenly grim. She should have been happy, I thought. Sadness didn't suit her face.

"Tell me about West Harbour." I said suddenly in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere. She seemed to appreciate it, as the darkness passed from her face and a faraway smile worked its way onto her lips.

"It's a run-down little swamp in the middle of a forest, surrounded by lizards and with the foulest-smelling peat bogs you'll ever see. Once you get over that it's a charming little place."

"That is certainly a…._novel_ way to describe your home." Though I could hardly blame her. There were some that would describe parts of Neverwinter in the very same way.

"Oh, I love it there. The people are wonderful, so friendly and carefree. Everyone knew everyone else, and it used to annoy me that all I did was under someone's scrutiny, but I miss it now that I've lived in Neverwinter. Seems like that place is so big but so empty. You could get lost among all the people, yet go all day without seeing a single other soul. I know I'm not making much sense…"

"I understand. When you have grown up in such a small community a place like Neverwinter must seem strange indeed." That must have been why she was so friendly, so open and unmoved when she met new people in the city, where people by nature kept to themselves.

"Aye, strange, though something I think I could get used to if I had to. But we'll see how things go. I don't want to think about much beyond what we have to do next. That can be Kana's job."

She smirked again, the mirth in her eyes lighting up her face as she thought of the young officer's rigid routines and frosty demeanour, so different from the Captain's that a clash between them was a sight to behold. Kana was not as forgiving, and nowhere near as lenient as she was, but the younger woman didn't seem to care and dolled out orders and decisions as she saw fit with little input from anyone else. Some might have called it arrogance, but I found the confidence she had in her beliefs, and the way she let nothing rule over her actions…inspiring.

"I'll admit it's a little hard to adjust to taking orders from some faceless authority in Neverwinter instead of the militia captain – a man I've known since I was five years old – but I'm getting there. Not that I'm resigned to it, nothing like that, I'm still annoyed, but I'm not _as_ annoyed. I guess we really can make a difference here, and if I have to lead it then so be it. Even if I do sometimes just wish I was back at home with nothing important to think about…"

"You miss West Harbour, then? Must have been painful to leave it, especially after what I heard about the attack. You probably wanted to stay and help rebuild it…" She was nodding, looking down. She had probably lost a friend or two in that attack, a feeling I certainly empathised with. It was always hard to deal with loss. "Then it is even more admirable that you are here now." I continued, "And I for one am glad for it. Not just because this war needs the shard you have, but because I see more and more that Nasher made the right choice in promoting you instead of another, more experienced, officer. Anyone would be a fool to think otherwise." Colour rose in her cheeks, and I wondered if I had said the wrong thing.

"Coming from you, Casavir, that means a lot. Thank you." That was certainly sincere enough, and the smile that shone through her stormy steel-blue eyes, richly framed with thick, brown lashes as she flicked them up to look at me, made me forget momentarily what it was I was being thanked for.

"It is only the truth, my lady." She leaned back and cocked her head to one side as she mused over something.

"You know…come to think of it…" Her eyes rested on me and there was that smirk again. "However much I miss my home, I wouldn't have skipped this whole experience, either. Meeting you, and everyone else, coming so far…it's been downright hellish at times, but the rest makes it all worthwhile. I'm glad I'm here, and I'm glad I know you. Feels like you and everything I've done have made me a better person. Or more like you make me _want_ to be better, and not in the way Brother Merring just made me feel depraved. In…a good way."

I probably should have thanked Neeshka for grabbing her attention just then, else I'd have blurted out how very, very wrong she was. The tiefling called her name as she jogged over, but slowed as she neared, looking at the two of us uncertainly.

"I'm not interrupting you, am I?" She asked in that youthful, high voice of hers, forever tinged with playfulness.

"No, no. What's wrong?" The captain asked, her otherwise smooth brow knotting together in concern, making some of the freckles that speckled her face collide together.

"Oh, nothing's wrong, it's good news, actually. Or so the _gith_ says. Personally I wanted to get a little sleep, but you know how it is. _Anyway_, she's pinpointed the location of those ruins at last, so we can go check them out. She said she told you about them already. A ritual, or something?"

"Yeah, she did…" She eased herself up and brushed down her front. From her tone, it looked like the day would be a long one.

"What's this all about, anyway?" Neeshka asked innocently, though now even I could detect the eagerness in her tone, almost certainly hoping to hear something along the lines of 'we're liberating the treasure horde of a pre-dead dragon. You can go first.'

"Those ruins are of the Illefarn. There are five statues, I think she said, and I have to go around performing some ritual or another to fight against the King of Shadows. Much more than that…well, I guess we'll find out." She sounded tired, I realised. I hadn't seen her idle since the Keep had been handed over, and perhaps it was starting to take its toll. She shook her head slightly to clear the fog and turned her head to me. "Well, back to business." Before flashing a grin and following Neeshka back to the main Keep, the sound of their feminine voices resounding around the courtyard full of male builders and soldiers.

I was left alone to ponder over the mystery that was the captain. She was so frank, yet I felt like I barely knew her. Of course I wanted to know more, anyone with an ounce of curiosity would have, but I didn't think it was my place to ask much more.

The absurdity of the thought caught up with me a moment later as I remembered how the same attitude was always my downfall. She didn't care about formality, about procedure or rules or regulations, but was still an undeniably good person, throwing almost everything I'd been taught on its head. Maybe it was better that way. Maybe I should forget what I thought I knew about the world, about people in general, and _especially_ about women, as she was proving me wrong every day. But now was not the time to think of such things. Now, as she said, it was back to business.

-+-+-+-

We rounded the final corner, passing the last of the four tests we'd been given in order to access the statue in the centre. As I looked around the others all had different degrees of weariness or just plain frustration written on their features. Except for Zhjaeve, of course. She wasn't even phased as I was made to herd around ghosts and fabricate my way to an alliance between two races I'd have otherwise killed on sight. This was all a game to someone, somewhere, I was sure of it. They were having a great time watching me run around like a rat in a maze looking for a scrap of food, and I had little choice but to go along with it. I hated every second.

There she was, the beautiful, silent figure of Angarradh, the triune deity of the elves, immortalised forever in stone at the heart of a dank, long-forgotten cave. It would have been ironic if I was in the mood for irony. I stepped closer, into the circle etched on the ground that was being worn away by the ravages of time, and saw the now familiar glitter of sparkles as the inanimate stone hummed into life and a resounding, celestial voice spoke.

"In ancient times, the Guardian was created to protect Illefarn. If the time has come to dismantle our Great Instrument, you will be an agent of its destruction." She repeated the words of the three other identical statues I'd seen before, and again peace fell over me and a warmth enveloped my body as I felt her power descending. "Take this Blessing of Cleansing." New knowledge opened up in my mind, and right to my fingertips I felt the tingle of magic, but it didn't burn like it normally did, demanding to be released, instead I actually felt in control. It was certainly a novelty in these times. "May it burn away the darkness you will encounter in your travels. Use it well." Again the pleasant, indefinable feeling washed over me like sunshine, and a soft, white light made me glow like the sun, lighting up the cold, empty, stone room as I exhaled in satisfaction. "Feel the power of Illefarn fill you…and see what it is you stand against."

My eyes snapped open. That was new. Suddenly I was hurled to the floor, realising a second later that I'd drawn my blade when I heard it clatter to the floor, and felt a great weight pressing on me, and a roaring crash in my ears. Instinctively, I reached for my sword, but stopped myself. This wasn't a battle I could win with a blade. He wasn't even here. I had to believe I was the stronger. I could defeat him. With a cry I pulled the new magic from somewhere within me and let it fly out again to the surrounding room, injecting all the strength I could summon up into the blast of power. It still echoed as the feeling faded, and I saw as I looked up that the aura was still vanishing from the walls and ceiling like water seeping into parched soil. Must have been an impressive show. I felt a hand on my shoulder as I caught my breath, and realised Zhjaeve was kneeling next to me, hunted-looking as she stared up at the statue.

"He knows…" She said breathlessly. "He knows…he knows what we are doing…"

"Yes." Said the statue, the single word irritating me for a moment before I remembered that the eternal, immortal Goddess probably knew a little more about these things than I did. "But now you have learned. You have learned how to place the power of this ritual – and the others – between you and him, like a barrier. If he attempts to break it, he will only wound himself. You have bought time, now, but still you must hurry. He will not be locked away for long." As quickly as she had come, the presence was gone, and the statue faded back into lifeless stone. I got to my feet and dusted off the front of my plate mail. It was still difficult to get used to, but I'd have to adjust quickly if I wanted to live long enough. And if the last year or so had taught me anything, it was that I had to be good at changing everything I thought I knew in a second.

Terror had overtaken my senses as I felt the darkness skimming around my mind, probing further and further…but then I'd remembered everything I'd gone through, all the battles I'd fought, all the odds I'd overcome, all the men I'd killed…and the rituals, the knowledge of how to fight back and win. Suddenly, I wasn't scared anymore. I was apprehensive as hell, but I wasn't scared. He could throw anything he liked at me, and I'd throw it right back with my last breath screaming a curse. Something had changed, and I felt ready to take on the world. Maybe it was because I'd seen my enemy now, and I'd pushed him back into the darkness, where he belonged. Maybe I was just being overly optimistic. After all, I hadn't even got to the fifth and final statue yet. I wondered what kind of power I'd get that time around…

"Know that we must hurry." Zhjaeve's voice never sounded anything but utterly serene, and that she had lost her calm even for a moment had worried me immensely, but apparently it was back again. "The fifth Statue of Purification awaits us on the hill to the south." It was nice having my very own guide through the underworld that was this whole _thing_. I didn't know what to call it anymore. A quest? That sounded too pretty, and I wasn't feeling very heroic. A mission, then? No, I didn't want to answer to or do this for anyone but myself and the home I'd left behind.

"Yes…let's head back…" I said automatically, hearing the shuffle of movement behind me as I remained, staring up at the carved image of the goddess. I knew who she was, of course. Daeghun hadn't skimped on the teachings concerning my pointy ears except for the minor issue of where they actually came from, and so it was incredible to think she had actually spoken to me. Several times, in fact, in that resoundingly beautiful, ageless voice. I'd prayed to Sune most of my life, and as far as I knew she'd never given me a blessing, nor a vision, and especially not a real, live audience. And I wasn't even an elf. Strange times, indeed…

"My lady?" I looked back and saw the others disappearing around the corner, with just Casavir turning back and watching me curiously. Wordlessly, I picked up my blade from the stone floor, and followed him.

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"Know that this may be an Illefarn portal." Zhjaeve said as we drew closer to the strikingly beautiful stone arch. I could feel the dormant magic running through it like veins, rivulets of colour blooming on the surface, skipping along the intricate but weathered carvings. I cleared the distance and ran a hand along the side, dislodging the growths of ivy and moss, and feeling the inscriptions beneath my fingers. However annoyed I was at them for making me clean up their mess, they sure had incredible craftsmanship.

"A…portal?" Neeshka asked as she peered around the cleric, inching closer. "And let me guess…we have to go through it?"

"Looks like it." I mumbled, flicking my eyes over the runes and swirling letters to see if there was anything I recognised. "There's no statue here. Must be through here instead."

"Great…so we're jumping through some ancient doorway that hasn't been used for hundreds of years and expecting to come out alive…" She had a point, even though her voice made everything sound like a bit of a joke. But there was always a chance that we were running straight to our dooms, whatever we did, and I couldn't back off now.

"Yup." I said simply.

"But what if it's into a volcano? Or it's underground or something? Do we even know where it leads?"

"Not sure. If it makes you feel any better I'll go first." I craned my head around to meet her eyes with a breezy grin. Casavir's dark brows shot up at that suggestion, probably wondering if he shouldn't volunteer to throw himself in before. He was too bloody noble to be in a group as debauched as ours. And I didn't mean it in a bad way, either. He wasn't one of those over-pious, delusional fools I always seemed to encounter who were chivalric to make up for their guilt over natural feelings. He _actually_ cared. Which was bemusing, as he had no real obligation to be here aside from his mission to redeem himself, or whatever it was he was doing. I didn't think I'd ever understand him, which saddened me a little as he seemed interesting enough, but we were so different. Although…he didn't seem to mind…

I caught myself going down a strange train of thought and stopped it immediately. He was a _Paladin_, for Gods' sakes. Alright, it would take the most cynical of feminists not to appreciate such a handsome, utterly loyal, strong, charming and above all _handsome_ specimen of mankind, but that certainly didn't mean there was any _more_ than appreciation. Certainly not on his part anyway. That was what Paladins _did_, and how someone like him managed to _follow_ someone like me, let alone be friendly with me was still something I couldn't figure out. But I was happy enough to let him stay, after all he was more than trustworthy, and unmatched in battle. And yes, I did like talking to him. Once I managed to filter out the automatic 'my lady's with the selective hearing I'd developed as a child with Daeghun, it was fun. He was genuinely interested, and that made me incredibly curious about him. I hated not understanding people.

What was it he'd said about those knights, forever entombed in the Temple? '_Does any worthy cause last only as long as there are those to fight for it…and die for it?'_ Those words had haunted my thoughts as I'd stared up at the statue, wondering if one day I'd be nothing more than a name attached to a long-forgotten story of heroics. It didn't matter, I decided, because unless my heritage was pretty exceptional I wouldn't live long enough for it to matter. Besides, I wasn't enough of a self-absorbed narcissist to really care if someone, somewhere had never heard of me. In fact, it was better that way. If people didn't know who you were, they couldn't expect anything. And then they couldn't be disappointed if you failed.

'_Or died.'_ I thought, morbidity swimming to the surface. I wasn't sure I was quite ready to die for a cause yet. I put my life on the line often enough, yes, but I wasn't quite sure exactly how far I'd go. Death was some far-off disaster that happened to other people. In my mind, Amie hadn't _died_, as such. Not the way other people died. Surely not. Even though I knew, quite for certain, that she was gone forever, like I'd be if something should happen. The human mind was a strange thing indeed. Death was such a bizarre thing to think about, even moreso to deal with. It was something I'd have to get used to, though, if I wanted to stay Captain. I'd sure be seeing a lot of it before this was over...

'_If I fall in battle, I would like to be buried here…'_ The fact that one day _he _would be gone had hit me hard at that point. I couldn't imagine turning around and not having him there, watching out for me. I could barely even remember a time before I'd met him. I'd changed so much since then. '_I have many questions I would ask those buried here…I need to know if what we do makes a difference, but only after I no longer have a choice in life.'_ A life of servitude put like that didn't sound so wretched after all. I had to know more. I had to know what he meant. I didn't know why I wanted to know him so badly, but there was something that told me it would be worth it.

"It is safe enough." Zhjaeve started again, bringing me back to reality. That opalescent veil along with her smooth, solemn voice made it impossible to know her emotions or anything else she might be thinking. It was a little unnerving, but I was starting to get use d to it. "The Illefarn had many such portals, called song portals, that linked their vast empire together." She came to stand next to me and placed a leathery hand with long, dark nails on the other side of the archway. "Searching for keys will do you no good, Kalach-cha, as there are none of metal or stone. They were unlocked by the singing of the Illefarn people." She closed her eyes, and I thought I saw the lights dotted around the stone flare into life.

"Can you open them?"

"Know that I can. I can open the Song Portal to the ruins of the Guardian…" She looked at me strangely, as if she just realised something rather peculiar. "Near your village of West Harbour, as fate would have it." I suppose it made sense. I knew of the ruins near the village, as did any child with a penchant for exploration. Until now there had been no reason to think they were of the Illefarn, but then again very little surprised me these days. Of course they'd be of the Illefarn, it made perfect sense, after all it was convenient enough. 'As fate would have it' was right.

"How near?"

"It is within the lands claimed by the King of Shadows…know that anything living that enters his lands will be slowly drained of life until nothing remains."

"Aye, what else is new, can we get on with this?" Bishop asked from somewhere near the back, annoyance woven through his voice. I didn't even need to look to know that he was scowling in that way he did, where his eyebrows lowered and cast a shadow on his already hooded eyes, making them even fiercer as his lips twisted in aggravation at everything around him. He'd barely spoken to me since the Keep had become mine, though in truth it was because I was so busy being the 'Captain' I'd become. He'd been right, and every look he'd shot in my direction told me he knew it. Alright, and the sensible part of me was trying to avoid him so I'd be able to concentrate. In battle it was different, I could focus like an archmage and forget my troubles, my raging thoughts, if only for the few moments before it was over. Even out here I could normally stop myself from going down that long and dangerous path, and simply think of him as just another companion, but that voice still sent unruly shivers down my spine even now. I tried to ignore it and focused back to more important matters, such as the image forming in my head of the mere being crushed, bled dry by the King of Shadows.

"What about the villagers there? Will they be alright?" Not for the first time I felt guilty for leaving my home, even if I was made to.

"That I do not know, Kalach-cha." She answered, grave as ever. Did anyone call me by my name any more? Only those back home, who were in the lands cast over by the King of Shadows. Were they alright? If Zhjaeve didn't know…

"They're not the type to run away if things get a little uncomfortable…" I mumbled to myself. "Would…would anyone mind if I returned for a while? Just to warn them? It's close…" I said a little louder. I had to help them if I could, as it didn't look like I was going to resolve this whole situation any time soon.

"We cannot stray from our goal, but…if we hurry, then we may." She replied, as if speaking for the whole group. Though again none of them were very talkative. It had been a long, long day with no signs of finishing soon. "Know that we have little time to travel to the ruins, and we cannot delay much longer." She closed her eyes, the thin, ashen-green barrier that was her eyelids doing nothing to get rid of the feeling that she was always watching me, always looking out to see if I was the heroine she needed. "Are you prepared?"

"Now or never." I said, nodding as I stepped back and watched the portal swirling into life.

-+-+-+-

I heard the voices asking where we were before the piercing light cleared from my eyes. The scene before me slowly drifted into focus as I took a few shaking steps forward, grasping the hilt of my sword.

A forest? Not just any forest, a swamp, the mere. I knew exactly where we were. I knew this place all too well. The smell of charcoal burning, the cries of voices silenced forever, the heavy air saturated with death...

"Where _are_ we?" Must have been Shandra, but I could barely hear her over the ringing that grew louder and louder in my ears. Other voices came and went, I knew some of them were talking to me but I didn't care. Slowly, agonisingly, I turned around.

It hit me like a brick wall. Flames still licked at the carcases of buildings, bodies lay strewn around, charred to death or cut open, some still bleeding even as they looked at me with yellowed, empty, accusing eyes. I felt my body falter as I beheld the carnage but forced myself to stay upright. I tried to say something, only to find I couldn't speak. A small, pained sound escaped my throat, and I heard Casavir's voice over the white noise screaming in my head, over the redness clouding my vision, over the dry constriction in my throat.

"It's...a village...But how..."

"It's West Harbour." I heard myself stay as I started to walk forward, sounding hollow and shell shocked even to my own ears. All of them...they were gone...every one of them cut down because I wasn't here fast enough. A Mossfeld's hand curled out towards me as if beckoning me closer. I couldn't tell which one of them it was, as most of his face had been caved in by something huge and clawed and too much for any of them to handle. They had been waiting for me. And now they were all gone... Bevil...Georg...Retta...

My breath caught in my throat.

"Evie..." It was Shandra. She'd come up behind me and placed a hand on my shoulder.

I broke out into a run.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

Before I knew it I was running after her, leaving the others behind shouting her name and then mine. She disappeared behind the shell of a barn, but I could still hear her frantic, whimpering breaths above everything else even as she tore through the village. Her village. Having never had much of a home, I could hardly empathise much, but I could certainly understand. I thought of all the people I'd grown up with, the faces I'd known for almost my entire life, and imagined for a moment what I'd feel if, suddenly, they were all gone, dead in front of me. Years of battle and seeing to the dead had hardened my resolve when it came to matters like this, but the thought of it still left me a little breathless. How, then, must she be feeling? She'd had friends here, a strange sort of family, memories, and she'd loved each of them dearly. No one would miss the smile in her eyes as she spoke of her home. The home she left behind. She'd left to save them, not leave them to be killed.

If I knew her at all, she'd blame herself.

The stench of burning flesh and charcoal assaulted my nostrils, but I tried not to notice. She was more important. I had to find her before anything happened, as Hell's knew she wouldn't be thinking very straight. For all her experience, all her strength, there was only so much that could make up for her age.

When I saw her, she wasn't running, she was barely moving. Her back was pressed against a battered brick wall like she was trying to meld into it, her fingers grasping along its surface at whatever she could. Half crouched, and with a pained, utterly disbelieving look on her face, she stared widely at the sight before her. Of course I didn't recognise them, but anyone could have seen that she must have known the battered bodies that were as still as stone on the grass. A woman with greying brown hair, loosened from a struggle, lay lifeless at her feet, her eyes still open but glazed over with a shadowy hue. Her long dress was ripped and muddied, with a dark, black patch at her side that was starting to cake together. Barely a few feet away was a man, older but by no means elderly, still gripping a long, sharpened blade in a gloved hand. He'd died fighting. The ground next to the woman's hands were scorched brown. So had she. They all had. And now their deaths were staring her in the face, the very people she'd given up everything to protect.

"D...D...Daeghun...wasn't there...I...I looked...must've...got away...somehow..." She said as if her lungs weren't obeying her, swallowing heavily on the constriction building in her throat. Her eyes remained fixed on the two pairs looking back at her.

"I..." I didn't know what to say. There was nothing I _could _say to take this all away from her, have it never happen so that she still had a home to go back to. I took a step forward and gave her my hand, which she took and hauled herself to her feet with, all the while looking at the corpses by her feet. Her mouth opened to speak but only a quiet, almost inaudible whimper came from her throat. Without warning, she turned and fell forward into me with a violent exhalation, her smaller hands gripping the shoulders of my plate mail like a lifeline.

She was shaking violently, and her breaths came in short, heavy rasps as she leaned into me, her forehead pressed against my breastplate as if it wasn't unyielding, cold metal at all. Not knowing what else to do, I followed suit, wrapping my arms around her and trying to hold her as comfortably as possible with my armour fully on. Any doubts I'd had about following her were brushed away. She was always there for everybody else, and so I was glad to be there for her however I could. I knew all too well how fallible leaders always were, how human even the most frosty, aloof species could become in a matter of moments when faced with something a fraction as devastating as this. But she wasn't crying, I didn't think, though if that was the case it was a remarkable display of self-control. A long, painful moment passed. I wished there was something I could have done to take it away entirely. From what she had told me this was all she had ever known, and now she would never know it again. I was no good in situations like this. My heart lurched at the unfairness of it all. Not just the situation, but the fact that it was all happening to _her. _I knew I'd do anything to take it away if I could.

"My lady...we must keep moving..." I said, feeling heartless but knowing it was the truth. She said she counted on me to be the reasonable one, and however much I was beginning to hate the side of me that could be entirely detached, I had to do what was right. Even now I could feel the dark magic surrounding the mere creeping forwards, drinking away at the life force of everything around.

"I...I know." She said breathlessly in a voice that was still wavering. Her shuddering had subsided, and now she stepped back and wiped a hand over her face before letting go a long, ragged sigh. Her eyes trailed sorrowfully back to the bodies behind her, and though I saw her flinch, she was more in control. "It's not fair...none of it..." She mumbled, walking around them with her jaw tight and her fists clenched. "Sure, nothing's fair, someone always has to get hurt in things like this...but not them...why them...never did a single thing...to deserve it...I hate this..." I was about to say something suitably comforting – once I thought of the words that would erase the horrific reality of the situation – like any Paladin should, but she put up a hand to stop me, her head whipping around and staring intently into the distance as she whispered something I couldn't make out.

"What...?" She hushed me instantly, and after a short, deathly silent pause, she was off again. But this time, thankfully, it was only to a house a small distance away. Without pausing she kicked down the splintered front door and shouted the same word again. Or was it a name? Her speech was still wavering, bitten out through a jaw clenched in pain. She ran inside, hopping over the fallen beams and toppled furniture and remnants of what was once a home, and I followed. "My la..." I started before I saw her, stopping at a small set of flat doors that must have led into a basement or storage area. She creaked one open slowly, and now I heard it. A faint, muffled sobbing. So someone had survived after all. She went through quickly, and I grabbed a still-burning torch before following. There, sure enough, was a tiny silhouette, crouching in a corner and flinching away from the light.

"Lisbeth?" Her voice was more tender than I'd thought possible of the Captain, as she spoke the same name she'd frantically whispered before. She hurried closer and knelt next to the cowering child. I saw as I drew nearer the pair of bare legs ravaged with cuts and scrapes, as well as the speckles of blood on the floor nearby.

"E...Evie?" Came the high pitched, disbelieving whisper as the older woman's hands found the girl's face, bruised and with large, swollen, red-rimmed eyes. Suddenly the girl launched herself forward into her arms with a ragged cry that grew in intensity as she moved. "Ow! It...it hurts!" She began to howl in pain and the captain opened her mouth uncertainly. Her head turned slightly to the side, and she spoke in a strained, lost voice.

"Casavir...Casavir I need you..." I closed the distance quickly and joined her next to the sobbing girl who's head whipped up to face me as if she'd only just noticed I was there.

"Who...who's he?" She broke out in between sobs. I could see even without feeling that her leg was broken. The bone was twisted and stuck out unnaturally from under the skin.

"It's ok, Lissie..." She started, holding Lisbeth's head closer and stroking her hair in an almost maternal fashion as she gripped one hand in hers determinedly. "This is my friend, Casavir. He'll...he'll make you better, okay?" The girl nodded after a while, the acute distress still clearly written on her face but lessening somewhat as I hovered my hands over the injury and thanked my God again as the magic still flowed through me like water and the bone mended itself.

"Tyr." Came the single syllable from Lisbeth as she sighed in relief once the pain was gone. I was confused for the moment before I realised her free hand was pointing at my chest, where, sure enough, there was the symbol of Tyr etched onto the top right corner. The child must have been not only incredibly discerning but also very intelligent. Judging by the woman she clung onto now, it was hardly surprising.

"Aye, I serve Tyr." I replied with a small smile that she returned, my voice too-loud and resounding in the silence surrounding us. She stared at me with large, brown eyes set in a round, freckled face and framed by chestnut hair tangled around her head. The two of them could have been distantly related, but I doubted it. Strange, then, that they should be so close, though perhaps that idea was just from my growing up in a city as unforgiving as Neverwinter.

"Is...is he a real knight?" She whispered conspiratorially as if I couldn't hear. "Like in those books?" The Captain glanced up to me, and the corners of her mouth twitched upwards in a sad sort of smile.

"Yeah, that's right." She mumbled to Lisbeth. "A real one. Now what says we get out of..."

"I thought you said people like that didn't exist really." The girl replied with the innocent impudence and penchant for details that only children could get away with. And she didn't look to be more than six or seven years of age at the most. The pain of a few moments ago seemed entirely forgotten. The Captain's expression was the single humorous aspect of a markedly unfunny situation.

"Well, I guess I was wrong." Her face hardened and she looked at the child seriously. "Now listen, no more questions. We have to leave." The girl nodded resolutely and climbed into the captain's arms, tiny hands clasped together behind the long sheathe on her back. I stood wordlessly and cleared a path for the two of them through the house. Again, there was nothing I could say. She paused suddenly and her eyes found mine as one hand pressed Lisbeth's head closer to her armoured shoulder. I remembered the bodies that lay strewn outside, the sight that would haunt the child forever. "Lisbeth...I need you to close your eyes, alright?" Lisbeth's mouth pursed together, no doubt to ask why, but she was cut off. "No more questions. I need you to trust me. Now do you?" The small, dark head nodded quickly. "Good...now close your eyes tight, and don't open them til I say so...alright?" Another nod, and Lisbeth's eyes screwed shut. "Good. This'll all be over soon...I promise..."

-+-+-+-

"Elanee? I need a favour." She said suddenly, as the others came into view, their faces each lighting up in surprise as they saw the girl still clinging onto her, her eyes obediently closed.

That child was the responsibility thrust upon her shoulders, the reminder of all that could be lost and all that could be salvaged. She wasn't crying, not for the fallen or for the loss of her old life. She didn't even look sad anymore, just grimly determined. Instead, she gripped Lisbeth as if she was the only thing she had left. In a way, I supposed she was. I wouldn't fool myself by thinking that she liked any of us enough to go through this rather than have the whole thing never happen, and our paths never crossing, and her village not in ruins. Now, she was hard as steel, and there was no trace of the barely-of-age girl I'd held and comforted before aside from the almost vulnerable, pleading look she'd given me just before we reached the others, reminding me that her tiny breakdown never actually happened.

"There…there are survivors? I…" Elanee cut herself off immediately after a hard look from the woman in front of her. Of course, the child didn't know the scale of the attack, but would have been smart enough to guess from that comment alone. Luckily, I didn't think she had heard.

"Take her back to the Keep, and take care of her 'til I get back, alright?" She said quickly, lowering Lisbeth to her feet and telling her in a quiet voice to keep her eyes straight ahead and to stay with Elanee.

"What about you?" Lisbeth asked suddenly. The others were deathly quiet, even those that normally took any opportunity to make themselves heard.

"I'm needed here. But…I'll be back. Soon. You'll be alright, I promise. Now, go with Elanee." She straightened and watched as the Elf, strangely protective all of a sudden, took the child's hand and led her back towards the portal. She turned to the others and there was a hardness in her eyes that hadn't been there before. "We still need that shard. There's no threat left in the village, but the marshland isn't a friendly place, so stay sharp." I didn't want to ask if she was all right, it would be suicide judging by the set of her jaw and the way she clutched her sword. Her eyes flicked to one side, where an unidentifiable woman lay, scorched by fire and covered in long, raking wounds. I could smell the violent odour of burnt hair even from where I was.

"Then you know of our true destination." Zhjeave asked carefully. She pulled her eyes from the body, nodded and jerked a thumb to her left.

"There's some Illefarn ruins nearby in the swamp. That's where we found the first shard. Though...Bevil was with me last time..." Another wave of sadness passed over her face but she clenched her jaw and willed it away. I didn't know whether to be impressed or worried that she hadn't shed a tear yet. Even though however hard I tried I couldn't imagine her crying.

"Then you should lead, as you have the knowing of this place more than I. And as you say, we should be on our guard. Only something of great power could have turned away our arrival from the ruins, and they may still be around..." Neeshka muttered something under her breath, while Shandra next to her was looking at our leader with a pained sort of sympathy, as if she wanted to say something but knew there was nothing to be said that would provide any comfort. I knew that feeling all too well.

"Alright, let's move." She replied curtly, immediately stalking off in front of the others and avoiding eye contact. I wished I could have told her to just go back to the Keep with the child, that we would take care of the shard and she could grieve without having to be a leader at the same time, but at least I knew her well enough to guess the response I'd get. She gripped her sword as if it was the only thing keeping her upright, and the grim determination in her eyes as she turned for the briefest moment reminded me that battle was the easiest way to forget your losses, your faults, your mistakes. Life was simplified into the enemy and yourself, and nothing else seemed to matter very much. One day I'd tell her exactly why I'd left my Order, but now wasn't the right time. It was never the right time.

I wanted to comfort her, I wanted to say something, like we all did, that would make it all go away. But there was nothing to be said. All I could do was follow her again.

-+-+-+-

I heard them shouting, a scream of my name above the chaos of battle. My arms felt limp, my throat burned, and I felt weak as a child, but surely it didn't matter, because I'd just taken down the enemy. I'd seen him fall just as a final plunge of my blade killed the points of light where his eyes should have been. I'd avenged the deaths of everyone I'd ever known. I turned my head to see what was going on, but before I saw anything at all I felt the two simultaneous strokes burning on my face. I cried out and took a step back, gritting my teeth and tasting copper on my lips as I slashed in front of me and felt a strike connect even as one hand flew to the fresh, deep cuts. I opened my eyes and saw through a haze of red the shadowy figure responsible slumping to the ground as no more than dust. My face felt like it was on fire. Maybe if I cried now no one would notice. There was too much blood.

"Ye gads, lass!" I heard Khelgar's unmistakeable accent hurrying closer, and the shuffle of feet telling me he wasn't the only one.

Another cry, this time from behind me, telling me to watch out. I couldn't watch out. I couldn't watch anything. I could barely see. I couldn't do this anymore. The memories floated in my mind of the scattered corpses in my home, and how I would probably join them any time now because, again, I wasn't fast enough or good enough. Would it really be so bad?

I heard the squelch of a wide, thin, red-hot blade piercing flesh before I felt it entering my back, sliding right through to my stomach until I was sure it was going to burst out the other side. A long, painful, croaking noise emerged from my lips, and that was all I could do. I was paralysed with the agony as he wrenched it out, but the spattering of hot liquid on the back of my neck told me he had been dealt with. I'd been cut up enough in my time, but I'd never lost complete control of my actions because of pain before. I wanted to scream out from my very soul but found I couldn't even get my throat to work. Someone caught me as I tumbled backwards, and once I'd found my tongue I shouted a guttural curse at the pain the jar caused. It started to spread through my abdomen like wildfire, and I felt my armour being removed even as I bucked and cried out underneath. It must have been him, I realised, for the hand that slid over my bare stomach, writhing with wetness like a gutted fish, was strangely comforting, and not at all like the gith's. But of course…she'd been knocked unconscious almost immediately. So it was him that had kept me alive through the ordeal and fought for my life even now as his strong voice rang out in a spell that was taking far too long.

Elanee was at the Keep, Zhjaeve wasn't in a position to help anyone, and now Casavir was my only hope, once again. More hands, this time shifting my position so that I lay on my front on the muddied stone floor, the biting pain that raked along my back fired up and I gritted my teeth together as I forced my head to one side so I could see what was going on. Just his palms, now, pressing around the wound and his voice muttering faster and faster and getting louder and louder in desperation.

The warmth was a comfort, but the healing magic just wasn't coming. He wouldn't let me die, though. Not him. He'd find a way somehow...

"Well?" I heard Bishop demand exasperatedly, the first word I'd had from him since we arrived this side of the portal.

"What's happening?" I bit out through the pain, screwing my face up as a fresh wave of piercing agony hit me, each one leaving me shuddering uncontrollably and limp as a scrap of pondweed, my whole world moving around me like I was caught in the centre of a whirlpool. Nausea was beginning to well up in my stomach as well, I noticed vaguely over the pain screaming along my nerves so intensely that I wondered if they would still work if I survived. I tried to open my eyes to ground myself in the present but saw nothing, only blood. Blood that filled my lungs and gushed out of my stomach and made every fresh wave of dizziness even more intense. I choked on whatever it was I was coughing up and felt myself start to shake violently, as if every little movement shook away a little more of my consciousness.

"I...I cannot." I heard Casavir's frustrated, helpless voice. "The magic...I must pray."

"No time." Bishop grunted with an angry sigh. I felt myself getting weaker, but somehow persevered and opened my eyes a crack and saw through the haze him reaching to his belt and pull out a flask of maroon-coloured liquid. He uncorked it with his teeth as he brushed away Casavir's hands and knelt down, stretching the wound a little wider. I couldn't stop myself from whimpering from the unexpected blast of pain, and just hoped I didn't shed a tear as he splashed the potion directly inside. The searing heat shot through me and I could hear the steam rising as my flesh knitted itself together. It hurt like hell, but even if with nothing else I trusted everyone in that room with my life. The flask clattering to the floor was the last thing I heard, as the warm haze swimming up from my stomach, where my own blood had matted itself into my clothing, took me over. Staying awake was too painful, and all too real. It would be so much easier if I just closed my eyes for good, and let myself float away into the sweet, inviting embrace of sleep…


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

The dull, throbbing pain at the base of my skull was all that greeted me as I awoke. Slowly, feeling spread to the rest of my body, and I realised that the sharp, stabbing agony I remembered in my back had gone, replaced by a foul taste in my mouth and some kind of desert cactus in my throat. My rusted fingers gripped at the sheets and like a broken doll I pushed myself upwards until I slouched over, catching my breath from the sudden exertion and the ache that pulsed through my body with my heartbeat.

I must have been out for a good long while.

My eyes felt as if they were glued shut, and when I finally wrenched them open I found myself staring at nothing but the same blackness as before. There were birds chirping outside.

A wave of panic shot through me and frantically I reached up to find that they were, in fact, wrapped in a thick linen bandage which smelt at the same time pretty fresh and utterly rancid with a strong medicinal odour. Everything felt numbed, so no wonder I hadn't noticed. With clumsy, frozen movements I unwound it, feeling the clicking and twisting in my muscles as I stretched. I blinked uncertainly, still feeling as if I'd been hit with a warhammer of some kind as I screwed up my stiff face to make me feel a little more human. Glancing to one side, I noticed the basin of water complete with a soft white cloth on one side and the tall pitcher that accompanied it. Greedily I gulped some down from the jug, not much caring where it came from as long as it soothed the burning in my throat. There was a sticky salve covering my eyes, I realised, though I couldn't think why. Then again, I didn't remember most of what happened beyond the very nearly fatal wound in my side. I would have to thank Casavir for trying later. As for Bishop...I was sure it would only annoy him if I expressed gratitude. He was just doing a job. Suddenly I felt stupid for nearly getting killed.

I stood up, trying to push the spinning in my head to one side, and saw that I was still wearing the same leggings as before, and they hadn't changed me out of the short vest I wore that stopped my too-round chest from getting in the way. There was a long, white bandage wrapped around my midsection, and I felt the padding of a cotton dressing underneath where my flesh had been cut open. My skin otherwise looked sallow and thin compared to how I remembered it, and I realised that they must not have healed me magically. We didn't have enough Clerics here to do that properly, mostly in part to my insistence that every patrol had at least one healer with them so we lost no more men than was entirely necessary. The sickly smell of infection hung around the infirmary room I now recognised, and it must have been because of the common plants they used for remedies in place of spells, as magic in non-clerics was limited and spell scrolls precious in such uncertain times. Perhaps they didn't know who I was. After all, I'd told Kana to recruit more healers as soon as she could. They gave us boys and we needed them to become soliders fast. That didn't happen without a few cuts along the way. Not that I wanted special treatment or anything. Of course not. It annoyed me to no end when people called me Captain and bowed down even though I was no more special than they were. That I was getting used to it annoyed me even more. So no, I didn't want them to treat me any differently than if I was anyone else, but…gods, it was really aching now. Was there no real magic that could have been spared?

I took the few steps towards the large mirror mounted on the wall, watching my world change as a strange, haggard creature loomed up before me. Her skin was a washed-out, greyish hue, her matted brown hair falling around her bruised head like filthy, stained rags. Two beaten, bulbous eyes stared out at me, the skin around them several brilliant shades of blue and green as it swelled up to easily twice its normal size, bits of wax coloured salve hanging off like the fat of a cadaver as well as the giant, inflated bruise she sported on the peak of a cheekbone. And then there were the scars. One jagged gash ran from the end of her right eyebrow, skimming the corner of the eye itself, and tapering off just below the corner of her lips. The other cut deeply over the bridge of her nose, forming a cross with the first as it ran over her cheek. They were both an angry, dark crimson, thick with clotted blood and showing no sides of disappearance. She opened her white, chapped lips just as I did, reached up to her eyes to wipe away the salve just as I did, and a sudden throaty gasp threw the horrific reality in my face.

I suppose I should have been grateful. I wanted people to stop treating me like a foolish girl, and I had wanted to look more imposing. Both of those were certainly in the cards as soon as I could summon up the energy and the will and the fire I was fast losing to be a leader again.

It was such a stupid thing, getting upset over faded looks, particularly for a warrior like me. I had been trying to break away from the girl I had been ever since I left West Harbour. I didn't want to be a great beauty; I wanted to be a great fighter. But...well, I had wanted to do it by myself, have people respect me for who I was and not just because I was nice to look at. No one really wanted to be ugly. Now it had been done for me. I suspected that after this a wink would buy me a frightened retreat rather than adoring favour. Gods knew I had enough scars, but none like these. None I couldn't cover up and then pretend I was still a lady. Although...it was hardly like I was one in the first place. I thought back to all the choices I'd made, all the paths I'd taken, all the lives I'd crossed. Life was too short for regrets, but sometimes I wish I'd done things a little differently. Especially where men were concerned. I always screwed things up, either by falling too hard or falling too soon. I was a mess when it came to things like that. I was always looking for something that never came. And even when I thought I had it I'd open my eyes and see things for what they were in the harsh morning light and realise it was nothing at all. But none of that was important now. Now people relied on me, and I had to rise up to the occasion. I left my past behind when I said a final, lingering goodbye to my shambles of a family. I'd almost been ready to join them.

I'd felt my vision haze as blood gushed out of the impalement in my side and my life slipped away. Had Bishop not acted I didn't know whether I would have survived much more, as weak as I had been. That one had been the obvious priority, and the scar it would leave was neat due to the quick, albeit blindingly painful, method of healing. It hadn't been the cut itself, rather the blood loss that had threatened my life. The rough gashes that marred my skin were less urgent, but they were deep and, as much as I hated to admit it, probably relatively permanent. There were things magic couldn't heal, or at least none of the magic we had in stock.

I gritted my teeth and glared at my own reflection, kissing my old self goodbye even as I stared at the scars as if I could erase them, erase this whole situation and be fifteen again at this time of year, back in my room in my little swamp village, pinning up my hair and corseting my waist for the annual multi-village festival where the lads would fall over themselves to ask me to dance, where I'd stumble home afterwards in tears of laughter with Kendra or Daisy or Amie...

She was dead. Perhaps they were all dead, if the battle had spread to the neighbouring villages. I tried not to think about it, even though it infuriated me to no end. I wasn't there fast enough; I wasn't strong enough to defeat this threat already. They were all counting on me for some reason. I couldn't let them down again.

"You're...you're not supposed to be up for another day at least." I heard Casavir's smooth, solid voice laced with concern before I saw his reflection as he stood in the doorway. "At least that's what your healer told me." He took a step forward but I stayed where I was, still shaken by everything as I looked furiously at a spot just below the mirror, hoping he wouldn't notice.

"It's mostly healed." I said in an unusually laboured, gravelly tone as I placed a thinning hand around the blotchy white of my abdomen. "I can barely feel it. As for the rest, just flesh wounds that won't heal any faster with me on my back." My voice was croaky and I tried to dislodge the wad of phlegm in the back of my throat without making it painfully obvious so that I could sound relatively normal. He took a step forward, obviously not intent on leaving. Oh hells, he'd see sooner or later, I reasoned as I turned to face him with a weak, pitiful smile on my face.

He tried, but didn't school his face quickly enough to mask the flash of shock as he saw what the rusty blades and heavy beatings had done to my skin. I looked down, suddenly hideously self-conscious and wishing he would leave so I wouldn't have to think about how defaced I was while he looked just as handsome and gleaming as ever. A lump rose in my throat and suddenly I knew that if I looked at him, or myself, or anything else, I'd start to cry. That was stupid. I hadn't cried in...I couldn't remember. Crying was what girls did, and I wasn't one of them anymore. I was a Captain.

"I...I'm sorry." He sounded genuinely regretful and fell over his words as he mumbled an apology for his reaction. He walked forward until he was barely a step away from me, in full, close-up view of my grotesque appearance, and continued. "They wouldn't let me in until now for some reason. And before...there was so much blood I could barely make out anything...but, at...at least you're alive and well. The scars...they will heal soon." He nodded encouragingly, and sounded far more assured than I felt, but I was glad to see that if there was disgust in his voice I couldn't hear it.

"Thank you, but I'm pretty resigned to it now." My voice was still gravelly but it was slowly clawing its way back to a normal pitch. "Or at least I will be. Guess it just means I won't expect admirers to queue up around the corner." He shook his head with a faint smile as I pushed my scraggly hair back.

"You are no less beautiful for a few marks, my lady." My eyebrows shot up at what I supposed was a slip of the tongue, especially considering my appearance. Either that or he also thought I was monstrously ugly before.

"Me or women in general?" He considered this for a moment, apparently caught off guard but trying not to show it.

"I'd say both, but then you are certainly unlike any other woman." I smirked, trying not to let the different meanings of his otherwise innocent words cloud my judgement.

"I'll take that as a compliment." With a faint quirk of his lips he brought his hands up to cover my eyes. I closed them, feeling the warm glow of divine magic wash over me and as I blinked at him I noticed the heaviness was gone, as was the swelling. My limbs suddenly felt alive. I turned my head to the mirror and all that was left were the two scars and my thin, sallow skin. Well, at least I looked relatively human now. "Thank you." I said, smiling in gratitude.

"It is my pleasure. I am sorry I could not have done the same before." There was a pang of regret in his eyes that I wished I could have taken away. I wondered what had happened to make his healing magic, normally so potent and reliable, fail. Now probably wasn't the best time to ask.

"You have my thanks for trying. And the fault was mine. I shouldn't have been taken down so easily. I was distracted."

"No." He began again. "You were exhausted, and clearly distraught. None of us could have foreseen the attack, or…what happened before..." There was a thick, painful silence. My hand tightened like a claw around my waist where the linen still gave me something to cling onto. Wordlessly, he knelt down and flicked his eyes up at me for approval before slowly unwinding the bandage around my stomach, a hissing intake of breath telling me that what he saw was indeed as severe as I'd thought. I looked and couldn't suppress the wave of repugnance that rippled through me like nausea at the ashen yellow that blemished the final few layers, and the dark flower of crimson that held the final pad in place. He peeled them back and pressed down on the area around the clotted wound with healer's fingers, and soon I felt the aches and discomfort drawing away from me as if his touch alone could erase what had happened. My hip bones protruded like old man's knuckles under my patchy skin, reminding me that I hadn't eaten a full meal in many days now. The warm tingle of healing magic made me sigh contentedly, realising how broken I had felt before. "You are lucky to be alive, my lady."

"Aye, I know that much." I mumbled, with a growing unease as I saw his eyes fixed on the hideous gash shape of clotted blood and stained skin that remained.

I was still a mess, no matter what he did to heal me.

I wished he'd leave so I could clean myself up and feel myself again, but then there was something soothing about knowing he was with me, so of course I wanted him to stay even though my ego told me it was a truly terrible idea. I didn't know what I'd do without him. Probably nothing, as I'd be far too _dead_ by now to think about it. He lifted his fingertips from my skin and I frowned in disappointment. In this empty, stone-cold room they were comforting. Self-consciously I smoothed my hair back and twisted it into something that looked a little tamer than the bizarre arrangement of matted peaks and horns that had greeted me previously.

He said his goodbyes then, with strict instructions that I was to rest, and not even think of being a Captain again until I had recovered my strength. Then, with a faint, encouraging smile, he was gone. I was suddenly aware that my feet were very, very cold indeed, and crawled into my covers like a hibernating animal. A while passed without thought.

Yes, he was well and truly gone. Slowly, I sat up on the edge of my bed and began to scrub off the filth and rainbow of effusions that came with herbal remedies mixed with near-fatal wounds. Once I felt a little less disgusting, I tore my hands through my hair until it was restrained as neatly as I could manage in a twisted bun at the base of my skull. A fresh set of clothes was neatly folded on a chair next to the mirror, and I dressed with heavy, awkward movements, prodding and wiping at my face in the mirror until I was at least presentable. I couldn't believe he'd seen me like that, now that I was conscious enough to think about it. It wasn't just undignified, it was...embarrassing. I cared about what he thought more than I cared to admit. He made me want to sort myself out and be a better person, and I didn't want him to see me falling apart like I did yesterday. Or the day before. How long had I been out for? Time didn't seem to exist anymore, as one day just rolled into the next without much rest or thought in between.

And all the people I passed and commanded and worked with every day. They were all starting to think I was the real thing. They couldn't see me as I was now. They couldn't see that I was just another person with weaknesses and fatal flaws and an idiotic pride that still needed to be reigned in. Casavir wouldn't judge me for my weaknesses; he'd praise me for my strengths. What few of them I had left, now. He could see me as the woman I was, know that I was mortal just as the others. But now the Keep needed its Captain, and the men needed a leader. If I did anything while I still lived, I would make sure the loss of West Harbour wasn't for nothing. I'd see this thing through to the end, come bloodshed or death. I knew it.

-+-+-+-

Something about her had changed, that much was obvious. Whether it was that whimpering child she'd brought back or the scars that marred her face, she was different. Any idiot could have seen that. But it was good that she'd changed. Even if it was triggered by such a thing as her village's destruction. If that was what it took to make her see how foolish following Neverwinter was, so be it. The people there wouldn't have outlasted the war anyhow, and it was better she found out now than later. All people like that did was hold you back. Free of any ties or thoughts of home, now she could start thinking for herself and herself alone. I hoped for her sake she'd make the right decision when it came. It would be a shame to see someone like that go to waste.

She kept her eyes to the ground as she stalked around the outside of the Keep, nodding distantly at the guards that greeted her. I thought about whether I should talk to her or not, but she made the choice for me as she continued in my direction. As she caught sight of me the childish playfulness in her eyes was all but gone, replaced by a wall of steel behind the veneer of sadness.

"You survived. I'm impressed." I said simply. It was half-true. Her wound would probably have been fatal in another world. Partly due to the Paladin's fumbling over his own magic. I wonder if he knew he'd almost got her killed. If nothing else it was something I could throw in his face about the woman he clearly admired the next time he was being overly holy.

"Thanks to you." She replied in a quiet, hollow voice.

"No." I corrected neutrally. "All I did was stop the blood until we got you back here. That's when they actually healed you." It was the truth, but evidently not what she wanted to hear. That didn't matter. By now she should have known better than to expect anything but honesty. I'd give her that much, at least.

"Well...thank you anyway." She said after a moment of consideration.

"Hey, you pay me." I said, shrugging.

"Right, of course, hate to think it was your soul or anything else that made you act as you did." She scoffed with some of her familiar sarcasm rising to the surface. Good to see she was strong enough to not lose everything that made her something more than those fools she suffered.

"This place would fall to shreds without you here to keep it together. Who else would be in charge? Kana? The men can't stand her and I'm no exception."

"So everyone keeps telling me. I'm touched, though." That didn't sound so sarcastic, worryingly enough.

"Don't be. Wasn't a compliment, just an observation. Why do you let these people rely on you so much?"

"Because I'm also relying on them?" She shot back, suddenly on the defensive. "Because I'm here and there isn't very much I can do about it?" I couldn't help but take her more seriously, now. She wasn't just some naive little girl with a sword in her hand anymore. There was a cold, hard resolve in her eyes, and the scars that crossed her cheek said exactly why. I took a step forward and she stiffened, looking up at me angrily.

"Yes there is." I could never tell exactly what she was thinking, and that always got to me. She was easy enough to read, but then I knew how quickly she could put on a face that was believable enough to sway a whole room of people. I didn't think she'd fooled me yet, and I had to keep on thinking that so she made sense in my head. I thought I had her pretty figured out, regardless. "You can still run away. You have no reason to be here anymore. There's no one counting on you back home, and those puppets in Neverwinter can replace you like that." I snapped my fingers, and her jaw tightened. She had to know I was right somewhere in that pretty red head of hers. "And there's no dishonour in that, namely because all the people thinking it will be _dead_. It's not cowardly, it's smart. If we're the best they've got, and we don't even know what we're up against, how do you think we're going to get out of this alive?" She looked down, suddenly quiet.

"Too many people have died already for me to get out of this." She said softly. "I won't be responsible for any more deaths." I knew what I had to say, I knew what she needed to hear, but I couldn't be the one to do it. It wasn't the sort of thing I did.

"West Harbour wasn't your fault." I heard myself say as her eyes met mine again. I cursed inwardly, wondering what had possessed me for that one moment. "You know that as well as I do. It's how things work - if you're not strong enough, you die." I qualified. She barred her teeth at me in a snarl, and not for the first time I noticed the ever so slightly elongated canines that gave her a wild, feral appearance when she was angry. Anger suited her better than grief, and if nothing else I was glad that she didn't try to cry on my shoulder.

"I could have been there! And they were _strong_, they were _damn_ strong! This was _nothing _like Ember. Everyone always says the Harbourmen are a tough bunch, and you saw yourself that every one of them died with a sword in their hand. There was no way they could have defeated whatever it was that killed them all, they weren't ready. Now _tell_ me that they were nothing but cowards that deserved death when all they were trying to do was _survive!_" She spat. I didn't say anything for a while, not knowing where I stood on the matter any longer. It seemed simple enough - if you died, you should have fought harder. It was something I'd lived with all my life, and what kept me alive even as others dropped like flies around me. She was still looking at me expectantly.

"Is that what you want too? To die fighting? Now that your village is gone the only thing you'll be dying for is the crest of Neverwinter like the Paladin--"

"_Whatever_ it looks like...I'm doing this for myself and no one else. Not for him, nor for Neverwinter, and _especially_ not to make _you_ think better of me!" She leaned close enough for me to feel her hot, angry breath on my face. "All this time I was thinking about my village, it was always so that I could go home to peace. But...now that's gone. Now, it's just necessity and revenge. I haven't come this far, seen so many people I love die for no reason, just to back away now." It sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than she was trying to convince me, but I let it go. It was something she had to figure out on her own.

"Good answer." I replied, stepping back and watching as her stance slackened. "Just hope it's the right one." With that, I turned and left without looking back. I wasn't sure whether I believed my own words anymore. Part of me was starting to think that she might actually be able to do this, and what's more she might live. We might all live. Well, whatever happened I knew my survival instinct always overruled any loyalty I had, and I'd be long gone before this got any more serious, but...maybe I wouldn't have to. The thought rebelled against all common sense, and I banished it immediately. The second I started thinking about anyone but myself...it got complicated. And the longer I stayed the harder it was becoming to leave. But I knew I would, in the end. That was what I did, although everything falling under that category was getting hazier and hazier these days. I couldn't sympathise with her, she had enough mindless followers to do that. No, I'd do what I always did and hope that she was smart enough to come around in the end. If not, I'd leave her there without a second thought. At least that was what I told myself.

-+-+-+-

"Evie?" My head was still swimming from talking to Bishop, and I barely noticed Shandra on the walls, almost walking right past her as I kept my eyes to the floor. I stopped and turned my head to look at her, those large, round opal eyes brimming with emotion and sadness and sympathy. She took a step forward, her boot heel echoing around the silent battlements, and took my hand in hers, holding it tight. "I'm so sorry." Was all she said. But it was real enough, and that was what mattered. I nodded in acknowledgement, suddenly feeling a fresh wave of grief welling up inside of me like it was contagious.

"It's all right." I didn't trust myself to say much more lest I start to indulge and forget everything I had to do. There were the front walls to look at, and that report from Kana, and those new patrols to check up on, and then there was someone else that needed an audience whose name escaped me…

"I didn't know you were from a Mere village. I mean, I know you told me you were from around there but I never really thought…well, must have been a tough childhood, that's all." Her eyebrows were giving me that strange little slant everyone's did when they were trying to be sensitive. On most people it annoyed me, but there was something in the way she clumsily held my hand between hers and the awkward biting of her lip that told me it was entirely genuine.

"Couldn't say." I shrugged, giving her a small smile. "Never had much to compare it to. I mean…I grew up there, and…I just thought that even if I left it would be exactly the same when I returned. Guess I still have a lot to learn." She leaned back to sit on the wall and I did the same, still not managing to let myself relax completely.

"I'm just…I'm so sorry. For them, for you, for this whole thing. I mean, I always thought life on a farm was tough, but the stories you hear about villages on the Mere…" She shook her head, giving my hand another strangely comforting squeeze. "I always had this idea, you know, that real heroes like you started in great, hilltop castles in some faraway kingdom…not….not like this."

"At least a castle would have had a chance. I…I wish I'd been there in time to defend it. They weren't ready." I bit out, feeling the heat pricking at my eyes but refusing to let it take over now, even as their faces swam before my eyes like through a pool of murky water. "I thought that…I thought that if I left them, if I took the shard…they'd be safe. There wasn't…wasn't any reason for them to have to get involved in this…"

"You left to save your village?" She asked, surprised. Maybe it wasn't as obvious as I'd have thought. That was people did…they protected those that mattered the most. With my life cut down before my eyes, I wondered if the only one left to protect would be me. "I'm…impressed. Even if you had to because of the shard in your chest, it's still admirable that you'd do so much and not complain."

"Are you joking? That's all I…"

"I know, I know, I mean…you never once turned back. You did what you had to, and for the right reasons. Just don't…don't blame yourself, alright?" She asked, treading carefully. I shook my head, realizing for the first time that I didn't. Not like I did as I tore through the carcases of scorched buildings, screaming in my mind that I could have been there, _should_ have been there to save them.

"I'm okay. I am. Really. It was…just a shock, that's all." She gave my hand another squeeze, apparently believing me. "And…well, our situations aren't that different. Thanks to me your home burnt down." I smiled wryly and she chuckled, still with sadness in her voice.

"Yeah, well, don't go getting any ideas. I'm not some heroine like you."

"Heroine? Hardly. I was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. Could have been anybody."

"I…I don't think so." She cocked her head to one side and smiled. "I mean, don't let it go to your head or anything, but you'd be a tough pair of boots to fit into." I didn't understand this outlook that so many people had. I wasn't particularly special in any way that mattered. All I did was not die when the shard lodged itself in my chest. All I did was survive this long. Surely it was what anyone would have done? But then…it wasn't just anyone, it was me. I was the one fate chose to use for its own ends, and I'd have to sit back and deal with it like a good little puppet.

I thought about everything that had brought me to this point, and wondered if it was worth it or not.

"Have you been to see the girl yet?" She asked, neatly switching subjects

"What girl?" I replied with my brow furrowed in confusion before I actually thought about her words.

"The one you brought back, of course. You know…the survivor." She lowered her voice as if it was some dreadful secret. I'd completely forgotten about Lisbeth, and perhaps that was a testimony to how self-absorbed I was. There was so much more at stake here than my personal happiness.

"Oh, yes, right…no…" I answered haltingly. "No I haven't. I just woke up a while ago." I realised she hadn't so much as mentioned the horrific scars raking across my face. Did that make her a good friend or a good liar, I wondered?

"She's a real sweetheart, you know? She's been asking for you since she got here, and I just told her you were coming soon even though I had no idea…" She looked at me with a sternness in her eyes, reminding me of the way Retta used to welcome me back when I'd been gone from the village for far too long and returned with too many cuts.

"Yeah…I'll go see her now. She's a smart enough girl to have figured out what happened already…" I cleared my throat. "I'll talk to her." Shandra nodded, then stepped forward and embraced me. It surprised me, but was by no means unwelcome. It was good to know that I still had some good friends in the world.

"Don't scare me like that, okay?" She scolded, her eyebrows knotting together. "I didn't know when you'd be alright, or if you'd ever get up again. Be _careful_." My mouth opened to reply, but instead I just nodded dumbly and we parted. I'd let my guard down, I'd almost got myself killed, and I didn't much care at the time. That thought frightened me, now that I considered it objectively. I didn't want to die, of course not, so why had I been so complacent as the idea entered my head as coolly as the colour of the sky? I stopped outside the door I'd been directed to and shook my head. I needed to stop thinking so much, or at all. That was the only answer. Taking a deep breath, I stepped inside.

"Evie!" I grinned with genuine happiness as she rushed forward and propelled herself into my arms, her wounds having disappeared. I hugged her close, taking in the scent she still carried of Retta's cooking, firewood, and the wide, open marshland. "You were gone for so long." She said quietly, her voice muffled further by the material of my tunic.

"I know, I know, but I came here as soon as I got back." I told her as I came over to the adult sized bed they'd given her and sat on its edge. She scrambled up and sprawled her legs out on the top while still smiling at me.

"I mean before. Before you came back to the village. Momma said you'd only be gone for a while, but it was _ages_!" Surely it couldn't have been that long, I thought, counting off the weeks that rolled into months in my head…

"You missed my birthday." She added, her thick, rosebud lips pouting. It must have been over eight months, then…Gods, was this what I had got myself into? It didn't seem like that long ago I was busy rolling in barrels of ale for the summer solstice, but eight, maybe nine months…that was already a tenth of this girl's life that I'd been gone. I held out a hand and she crawled into my lap like she used to do when I told her a story. Only I didn't have any stories to tell. They were all becoming far too real.

"I'm sorry, Lissie, I'm sorry." I said rather pathetically. "Next time…next time we'll celebrate like we used to." I'd always loved Retta's family as my own. Well, aside from Lorne, anyway. Daeghun didn't seem to mind that I'd spend so much time with Lisbeth or her brother Bevil, as after all it wasn't like I had much of a family in the first place.

"Can't." Came the monosyllabic protestation from somewhere beneath my chin. "Momma's gone." There was nothing I could say to make that any different, and I think that somehow she must have known it, for she cuddled up to me even closer.

"She still loves you, you know that, right?" I felt her nod. "So do Bevil…and all the others." I couldn't bring myself to say their names, lest I open up those floodgates again.

"But…Bevil's gone." She said confusedly.

"I…I know, but it's ok, he—"

"No, I mean it. He's gone. He left with Dae…Daeghun." She clarified, stumbling over the Elvish pronunciation.

"He left?" I asked with disbelief as she nodded again.

"Yeah…I think he was looking for you. He was acting all funny. He left once, then came back and wouldn't tell anyone why. Then he left again. I don't understand but I thought that if he's with your daddy then he'll be okay, right?"

"Let's…let's hope so." I tried to sound calm even as a wild, crazy hope erupted inside me. If he was still alive then I wouldn't feel like such a fool for leaving in the first place, even though all the conflicting thoughts running around in my head seemed to conclude that it was for the best. We spoke for a while about meaningless things I brought up to try and lift the atmosphere, though part of me knew she was smart enough to guess that. She laughed weakly at something I said, and as it trailed off there was a heavy silence. Her arms, wrapped around my waist as she sat in my lap, tightened and she buried her head in my chest.

"I was so scared, Evie." She said suddenly, her voice no higher than a fierce whisper. Lisbeth wouldn't have admitted something like that to me normally. It must have scarred her more than I'd thought. There was another silence as I stroked her hair back and rested my chin on her head. I wasn't surprised by the thought that instantly sprung to mind. What shocked me was that I voiced it. It was the sort of thing said by people I thought below me. The sort of thing a woman of my stature shouldn't admit, not even to herself, no matter how true it may be. My voice was quiet and uncertain.

"I'm scared too."

A.N. Now that I have your attention - it's silly that I have over 5000 reads and not many reviews :D. I'm really grateful for those that have taken the time to review, and even if it's just an 'I'm reading this and I don't hate it', that's enough to make me happy enough to write quicker! Thanks for reading this far!


	13. Chapter 13

**A.N. I'm so sorry for the stupidly long delay! Rest assured that the following chapter will be up a lot quicker. To make up for it I'd like to direct you to my profile, where there's a link to some of my pictures. Most of them are just sketches, and there are a few more on their way. The drawing of Evie that's in both black and white and colour is supposed to represent her right at the beginning of this story, and the one of her in real armour (not done...) is more towards the end. Note that the painting of Casavir (which will never get any more finished...) is exactly as I like to think of him. I always thought it was a little creepy that he's described as being in his 'late thirties' and the Knight-Captain's recommended age (for a human) is eighteen. So for the purposes of this fic he's around 23-25, and Bishop is around 26-27.**

** I'd also like to give a big thank you to my marvellous new beta reader ChryseisLaurea, as this chapter wouldn't make much sense without her!  
**

**Chapter Thirteen**

I didn't know horses could purr, but the sound that emanated from Nella's now glossy throat was remarkably close. I stroked back her mane, humming a melody I'd long forgotten the origins of as I set about my work brushing her clean of the road's mud that caked on her flanks. I'd fallen for her the second I saw her cantering happily out of the fields, a stablehand running behind her with a large bruise on both his face and his pride. She was impatient, temperamental, proud and a good two feet taller than I was. Perfection.

"I hope this glorious morning finds you well, My Lady Evelyn," came a silver voice to my right. Well, more like battered copper if I was being honest. I glanced up to see that idiot bard I'd sent on a fool's quest somewhere in Highcliff standing before me with his hands behind his back and offering a queer, birdlike smile that twisted his lips unnaturally. He still wore that puffy, courtly nonsense of an outfit that can't have been at all practical for 'adventuring'. There was white face powder collecting at the corners of his nose, and it seemed to stop halfway down his neck. Was…was he wearing lipstick? Oh, Gods… "In truth I am sure it does as you are the very picture of loveliness." I noticed idly that he looked an awful lot like a horse. He had small, squinting eyes and a long and hooked nose that contorted with the rest of his face as he smiled. His crooked teeth looked far too big to fit in his already huge mouth, and were a worrying shade of beige. His hat had a long, fluffy feather in it.

"Oh…well…it does, as a matter of fact. Thank you…uh…" I was sure I knew his name somewhere. I never forgot names, and knew every one of the guards that frequented the Keep, as well as a good number of the footsoldiers by name. However, his eluded me for some reason. It just didn't want to make itself known at the moment. Maybe it was too embarrassed to be attached to this 'bard'.

"Daerred. Do you not recall our first meeting?" There was a wistfulness in his eyes that made me suspect _he _certainly did.

"Right, sorry, I knew your face, I just couldn't, um--"

"It's perfectly alright, My Lady." He almost tripped over his words in that stupid voice of his that wavered between a choirboy's tone and a deep, imitated growl. There was a moment of dense, syrupy silence.

"So…Daerred…" Was that a sigh I heard as I said his name? No matter, I was trying to brush down an increasingly aggravated Nella without this kind of disturbance, but surely _talking_ to him was better than him just staring at me as if I had seven lovely heads.

"I have been watching you, my lady." He started rather unpromisingly. "You are a remarkable woman, and an incredible leader."

"Aye, I get told that a lot." I replied dismissively, wondering how _he_ of all people would know this. I didn't understand why what I was doing was so different, or so exemplary. There were plenty of other people that could do the job a thousand times better. I was getting tired of people praising me for something I seemed to have less and less control over.

"In…indeed," he said, attempting to gently deter Nella from chewing on his ridiculously puffy, curled golden hair whilst trying to keep a friendly smile plastered to his thin lips. There was a mole just above them to the right, which looked like it had been stuck on. Was that the fashion these days? It was so hard to tell. Sadly, it didn't look like he was going to leave. Perhaps more direct action needed to be taken.

"Well, as I'm sure you can see I have my hands full here," I stated pointedly. Nella stomped her back hooves as if adding to the discussion.

"Yes, it is truly a crime against your beauty that you must spend your time performing such chores," he offered with a sympathetic crushing together of his teased eyebrows.

"I _like_ looking after Nella," I replied defiantly, trying to ignore the feeble compliments he was throwing at me like confetti. I grumbled, more to myself than to anyone else, "This is the only real time I get away from the Keep and those piles of reports Kana keeps shoving in my direction."

"Ah…indeed." He tried a little more forcefully to dislodge the wad of hair and saliva that was building up in Nella's mouth. The horse neighed and snorted in annoyance as her jaws were forcefully pried apart and Daerred tugged his bizarrely shiny, yellow hair out from within. She must have liked the taste of the oil he used. So, not _her_ fault, as such. I looked over my handiwork and as soon as I realised I was, in fact, finished, thoughts of all the other duties awaiting me leapt forward. I sighed and glanced back up at the man beside me.

"I'll…uh…be going," I said, trying hard not to let out a chuckle as I brushed down the rest of her shimmering velvet coat. Somehow in the current situation I doubted it would do much for his confidence if I outright laughed in his face, but I didn't think he'd leave any time soon.

"Farewell, my Lady!" He called after me even as I deposited my things and walked out.

"Bye..." I mumbled under my breath, not caring much if he heard me or not.

-+-+-+-

"Who was that?" I asked with a smirk as I saw her approach. She rolled her eyes to the heavens and mumbled a response, the corner of her full, pink lips turning up as well.

"Just some 'bard'. I think he's lost."

"Looks content enough to me." She turned her head back to see him still standing there, a shit-eating grin on his face. I couldn't understand why she didn't simply gut him and be done with it, but then women were a strange bunch. She gave a small shudder and followed me to the main courtyard, muttering about how she didn't deserve to be pursued by a man that thought he was prettier than she was.

Now, I knew that _I_ had something to do just outside the gates, and I didn't think she realised quite where she was going as she came after, still talking, but strangely enough I didn't much mind the company. She was one of the few people within the small circumference of the Keep's walls I could stand, not least because she was far more pleasant to look at than the soldiers, even with those new scars that adorned her face like battle paint. I heard someone call her name as we passed one of the smaller entrances, and she smoothly ignored it just as she'd ignored the soldier meekly informing her that Kana needed an audience. The voice called again, then another time, closer. I noticed absently that there was no irritating 'Lady' or 'Captain' attached this time. With a sigh, she broke off mid-sentence and turned around to see a fat, middle-aged, balding man huffing towards us with a wide grin plastered on his breathless features. Her face broke out into a smile that looked incredibly forced as she greeted him.

"Naethen!" She said brightly in the same tone. "What...what are you doing here?" Who was this fool?

"I heard about West Harbour, Evie my dear, I'm so sorry." The thick, bushy hair that ran wild in place of eyebrows drew together in what I supposed was meant to be a sympathetic manner.

She nodded and her eyes flitted to the ground, a small, sad smile replacing the one before. "It's all right," She said, "there was nothing to be done. But...you...you're a long way from Fairwilde." That was one of the larger villages that dotted the Mere, established by the more optimistic settlers that thought to tame the swampland. Two laden pack mules had followed him from the gate and were now being taken to the stables. Must have been a merchant of some kind, then. Made sense, as West Harbour was on the path from there to Neverwinter, and she was certainly memorable enough.

"Aye...but still, a very sad thing. As for me, well, the second we heard of the goings-on in West Harbour half the village upped and left. The rest soon followed. It's just not safe there anymore, if you ask me. I'd heard there was a Keep on the way to Neverwinter that was very welcoming indeed, and with the upcoming festivities, well, only seemed right I stop by. Didn't expect to see _you_ here, child!" He chuckled loudly and hitched up his belt around the equator that was his waist.

"Oh. Well, you know..." She trailed off vaguely.

"Say, you don't know where I could find the man in charge, do you? Seems awful rude of me to just come barging in here without so much as a hello!" He winked, and I saw her shoulders sag. It was something she'd have to get used to, though. No one would believe a tiny girl like her with such big, bright eyes had an army at her disposal. The picture didn't fit, and she knew it. A ripple of authority curled through her spine and she stood up straighter.

"Actually, I'm...the Captain." She said with a little more force.

"_You?!" _His large, piglike eyes bulged out in disbelief. "Oh, my dear, I knew you liked to spar from time to time, but a _Captain_?" For a second her lip curled up in irritation and I thought she'd slap him for what he implied. Not that she could really blame him, though. I'd seen her fight when it mattered, and I knew that before I wouldn't have believed such passion, such drive, such ferocity could come from the freckled farmgirl in front of me.

"Guess I've moved up in the world," she said through clenched teeth. The warning note in her tone was lost on him as he continued.

"Looks like it, eh? Guess you're smarter than I gave you credit for. _Although_," his voice lowered conspiratorially, "I imagine they took one look at you and gave you this place for free!" He laughed at his own joke, again completely oblivious to the vacuum of humour that surrounded him. Her mouth opened like she would either bite his head clean off or shout at him until he wished she had. Her eyes pointedly avoided mine, and I wondered why. "My son still has something of a sweet spot for you, you know." Her cheeks lit up like torches while her scowl remained rooted in place, and I grinned despite myself. I couldn't imagine why a woman like her could find a reason to be embarrassed, especially considering the almost imperceptible flinch of disgust on her lips as he mentioned his son. "Although..." He turned to me suddenly, a strange look in his eyes that I didn't like at all. "I see you've already picked up another admirer! Well met, boy." I didn't know whether to be flattered or amused as I saw her eyebrows shoot up and her mouth fall open. He extended a hand that looked plump and moist, and I watched it drop back a few moments later.

"What, _him_?" She jerked her head at me disbelievingly. I grinned and dropped an arm around her shoulder as the man stared at us both with a wide, pacified expression like a cow chewing cud.

"Oh yeah, she wasn't even conscious when we were married." I thought I even saw the corners of her mouth twitch up in amusement even as she threw my arm off with a snarl and muttered something about not listening to a damn word I said.

"Haha, it's ok, I know what you kids are like." He gave her a sly wink and she rolled her eyes expansively. "Bet you can't wait for the Solstice festival, eh, Evie?"

"Aye, can't wait," she said flatly. The Solstice festival had a deeper meaning related to its origins, but these days it was just an excuse to drink too much and dance like fools. Apparently it was a pretty popular idea among the soldiers, and she'd been bound to accept arrangements for it to take place within the Keep's walls next week. Morale was low with the emergence of the new enemy, and this would do wonders for spirit.

"Well, I know how much you used to love them, and all. I still remember you dancing in that lovely blue dress Retta made – Gods rest her soul – last year. All those poor lads were just tripping over themselves, you know." He threw back his head and laughed heartily. She looked distinctly unamused, and the redness crept up her neck again.

"Yes, well, I've put those days _behind_ me as you can see," she said firmly. He wiped a tear from his eye, still creased from his laughter and shook his head.

"Of course, of course." He leaned forward and winked again, this time at me which was more than a little horrifying. "Take good care of her, eh?"

"_Goodbye_, Naethen," she said meaningfully. He bobbed in a strange effort at a bow, still chuckling, and left us.

"_You_ dance?" I asked the second he was out of earshot. She glared at me.

"Not like you care. I didn't think you'd stick around for that anyway." I knew I wouldn't. I'd told her even before this idiotic Festival had been suggested that I'd be gone for a while. There was an upcoming mission that Kana had informed me needed someone of my skill. I was the best they had and she must have known it. While I didn't relish the idea of trailing through the vast forests surrounding the area for that length of time, surely anything was better than staying in this mockery of a settlement for much longer.

"I won't. But it's almost worth it just to see the soldiers 'tripping over themselves' to dance with the _Captain_." I grinned again and her glare intensified. She was too easy, sometimes.

"Hardly," she said with a snort. "I don't think I'll even go."

"And why not? They'll be expecting you, _Captain_."

"Sure I'll make an appearance but I'm not exactly in the mood for something like this. We've lost three patrols this week and there haven't been enough new recruits to replace them. But I suppose you know that already."

"Aye, but that's not your problem, it's Kana's."

"It'll be all our problems if it's not sorted out. How else do you think we're supposed to win this war?" I wasn't sure exactly where everyone had got the idea that I was the one to talk to for inspiration or assurance. It was getting aggravating.

"Stop thinking about that. In fact, just stop thinking and do what you do best. It'll be easier that way." She may have been little more than a girl at times, but in battle she was something else altogether. It came to her like breathing, and she changed in seconds into something sleek, graceful, and deadly, and I found myself doubting at times whether I'd be able to overcome her should things ever come to that.

"Tried it, believe me," she replied gloomily, fingering the hilt of her blade absently. One day, I decided, I'd fight her. Not just sparring, not just teaching, but have her really fight me. See what happened. The thought worried me, because it was tantamount to admitting a nineteen year old girl would be a challenge. But then stranger things were happening these days.

"Then surely," I started, a grin crossing my face as I leaned in closer, "The only course of action is to get yourself so blind-drunk next week you won't care if you live or die?" She giggled, which was a strange noise coming from her, especially coupled with her eyes flicking to the ground shyly.

"Aye, I suppose when you put it like that a little Dwarven courage wouldn't go amiss." She looked back up at me in a way that almost changed my mind about what she said next. "You sure you don't want to come?"

"Not my thing, princess. You know that." She scowled for the briefest moment at the nickname the others used for Qara, then a sort of half smile worked its way onto her lips as she shrugged.

"I know. Not so sure it's my thing either, not anymore, but guess that's what I get for owning the place." She grinned, showing off a pair of oddly pointed canines that looked like they could chew through steel. When she smiled her eyes took on a wild, feral quality, just like when she fought, and the icy blue of her eyes seemed to catch on fire. A moment passed. "I've got to go..." she started, turning to one side. "Told Kana I'd go see her first thing in the morning, and, well..." She looked up to the sky, where the sun was already directly above. For all her allegiance to Neverwinter, she didn't seem too fussed about following their orders to the letter. At least they hadn't sucked the life out of her just yet. She gave me a final, parting look, and left me to wonder what exactly it was I had planned to do before she showed up. Probably something around here, as that was where I'd walked, but looking around I couldn't think for the life of me what it was. Now, if nothing else, there was a reason why women – especially women like _her__ –_ shouldn't be allowed on the battlefield. Too damn distracting.

-+-+-+-

"In the hay? Really?" Neeshka's eyebrows shot up with interest, the strange collection of brown spots adorning her face dancing as she grinned.

"Well...it was just in the heat of the moment, you know? These things...happen." Shandra mumbled, unable to subdue the wide smile as she took another sip of her drink.

The two of them had dragged me in here and bought me a drink to make me sit still for once as I was on my way to the main Keep. There was this marvellous tea Sand had made me once, claiming in that ironic, sardonic way of his that he could tell I was tired even if I couldn't. It had picked my spirits right up, and tasted faintly of blackberry and cinnamon. I was damn near hooked on the stuff, now. After all, there was so much to be done that sleep didn't seem to fit into anyone's day anymore. The ale in front of me didn't much compare, and I wished I'd taken the time to go to the Keep and perk myself up with a cup of Sand's brew instead of following Shandra and Neeshka straight into the Phoenix Tail. I was sure I didn't have time for this, but I'd promised myself a long time ago that I'd always have time for my friends, and they were no exception. I shook my head, smirking.

"Pretty impressive," I said, twirling a lock of cherry hair around one finger idly as I pushed my drink to one side. She looked straight at me and giggled.

"Oh I doubt that, _Lady_ Ashcroft," She replied pointedly. I felt colour rising in my cheeks at the utter inappropriateness of the title, and tried hard to fight it back. I had no real right to blush, she was right. "How old _were _you, out of interest?" She cocked her head to one side as if she could work it out just by looking at me, leaving me with no doubt about what she was asking. I thought back to that particular occasion, so many nights ago. Slippery, uncomfortable, and deeply disappointing were the only words that came to mind.

"Fifteen." I said, nodding as the memory came back in its awkward entirety. She shrugged, mulling it over.

"Who was he?"

"Just...an old boyfriend, you know the type. Pickings weren't too great down by the swamp." Oliver Thatcher had been a tall, chestnut-haired lad that hadn't quite grown into his height when I'd met him. What followed was a brief, depressingly ordinary romance that ended the day his father decided it was time to move further north. He was there for all of a month, and in that time I realised that unless I did something drastic, I'd probably end up marrying someone exactly like him, living at home while he brought in a meagre income and I pushed out score after score of tall, lanky, redheaded children with big blue eyes that still wanted so much more from life. I was his first love, he said, which made me feel incredibly guilty as I told him we'd probably never see each other again and that was for the best.

"Loved him?" Shandra asked. I shook my head.

"It was just time, like you said. Felt right, I guess." I looked down and swished the small amount of ale around my glass in thought. The truth was, I'd heard so many stories about what a beautiful and spectacular thing the love between a man and a woman was, I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Sure, it was fun while it lasted, but afterwards all I felt was a deep, spreading emptiness that all the physical pleasure in the world couldn't fill. My transition from virgin to grown woman was one I thought would suddenly make everything so clear to me, and would finally make me understand what all those storybooks gushed about. Instead, I lay there breathing raggedly and wondering what in the hells I was supposed to be feeling. There was probably something wrong with me, or maybe I just had to be married like to really understand. That, or everyone who ever lived was simply fooling themselves like I'd always been tempted to do when faced with a beaming, lovestruck youth that told me he'd take me away from 'all this'. None of them ever did.

"You ever been in love?" She asked in reply. I snorted, which probably was enough of an answer.

"Not that I know of. If what I've had is love then let me tell you it's not worth the effort," I replied darkly, remembering the fools that claimed I was the only star in their sky after having known me barely a day. It got old very quickly.

"Seconded," came Neeshka's muffled voice as she leant over the bar to grab another drink.

"Ha, I'll drink to that!" Shandra laughed and did so, her ash blonde hair falling over her face as she slammed her empty glass down and screwed up her eyes. I caught Sal's gaze and he was over in a moment, refilling her drink in an instant while I politely declined. I was feeling a little dizzy already. She glanced up at me and grinned devilishly. "But you know...that Casavir..." She winked, and my mouth fell open.

"C...Casavir?" I repeated idiotically. I knew she was well aware of the strange, circular relationship I had with Bishop, where I was still holding onto what scraps of self-control I had left in the seductive knowledge that I could lose myself with him if only I stopped trying to be someone I probably wasn't. I didn't know why I wanted him so much. It was probably the same thing that made me always wake up early and escape before I had to actually make conversation with whoever's night I just made. It wasn't that I was promiscuous. I chose all my partners carefully, and made sure I'd never have to deal with them if it all went wrong. It always did, and that's when I cut myself off. All right, I wasn't the most stable woman, or the most reliable. That was the main reason why Shandra's suggestion had caught me completely off guard --- it didn't make any sense. He was stupidly handsome, like a picture right out of a storybook, and as well as that he was the very model of politeness, consideration, honour, goodness, strength...all very good reasons why it clearly wouldn't make any sense at all for someone like _him_ to see anything in someone like me but…a project. Someone to be saved, to be shown the error of her ways. That was the last thing I needed. Bishop, now that was another story. I could tell straight off he was as rotten as the worst of them, and that was what I wanted. A man that wouldn't make me sit down and discuss my feelings or expect me to want to cuddle or who wouldn't care if I never gave him a second glance outside of bed. It all seemed so much easier that way. Fewer expectations meant fewer disappointments.

"Yes, Casavir. You know, that paladin you said you'd picked up back in..." Shandra started mockingly.

"You're deluded," I said, shaking my head.

"Well..." Neeshka ran a brown-nailed fingertip around the rim of her glass, raised her eyebrows, gave me a knowing smile and sauntered off towards the door before I could say anything in response.

"But..." I began incredulously.

"But...?" she asked, drawing the single syllable out.

I gave her a long, steady stare. "Come on, now."

Shandra shrugged, rolling her eyes. "Alright, maybe not, maybe he's just that nice to everybody, but still," she smirked, "can't think of a woman alive that'd turn her nose up at _that_." Now I knew full well that she didn't think of Casavir in that manner, for she'd told me as much herself a few weeks ago as she saw a kitchen maid blush and stammer as the paladin addressed her, but that certainly didn't stop her from providing me with a glowing assessment of his many exciting and obvious talents whenever possible. Sometimes I really didn't understand her.

"True enough, but that's hardly the point," I told her. She opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by a round of applause from somewhere to my left, and I looked up to see the resident dancer bowing and curtseying gaily before jiggling over to us, waving off the whistles and catcalls with a giggle. She smiled with a row of pearly white teeth and tinklingly ordered a drink from Sal.

"Just water, Sofiyah?" Shandra asked with a raised eyebrow. I was secretly glad for the change of topic, as my head was still swimming, both with thought and with an unexpected dizziness that erupted ferociously as I turned.

"Oh, I'm trying to watch my figure. Don't want to end up with a beer belly." She giggled again, her eyes slipping down to the mug of ale in Shandra's hands. The figure in question was fairly concave, and supported by a bizarre arrangements of straps, harnesses, silks ...and was that metal? I saw my companion's cerulean eyes narrow. Sofiyah reached around me to get her drink, and I saw how she had the perfect, uncalloused hands of a woman who clearly enjoyed her work far too much to call it real work. They looked like they'd carved each other out of the finest soap, they were so unmarked. She'd clearly never lifted a weapon in her life that was deadlier than a pair of scissors, and I didn't miss the look she gave me, full of a dreadfully condescending pity that made me fume. Who had invited her here, again? I was sure this place was mine, and yet I supposed I couldn't be in control of everything. I hoped I wasn't paying her.

"I see," said Shandra flatly, still silently glaring daggers in a way only a woman could manage. Sofiyah was one of those women that were so perfect you could never quite tell if they were real. She looked like a doll, to me. A very _specific_ kind of doll. Her polished ebony hair was pulled back from her painfully symmetrical face so that it flowed down her back in ringlets. Her eyes and lips and cheeks were all painted to within an inch of their lives, but none of the men that surrounded her, openly gawking and drooling, seemed to mind. She didn't have to worry about what the next day held, or the lives of everyone she cared about, or the fact that as the days went by I was starting to recognise myself less and less. Was I jealous? Of course I was. I was jealous as hell, but never would I want to change places with her. Not for the world. And not least because I sincerely doubted she was capable of half the things I was – and I hadn't worked so hard just to see this place fall apart. I felt my eyelids getting heavy, and knew I should probably be on my way. Our lively discussion had distracted me from my own exhaustion for long enough.

Shandra shot me a look worth a thousand words and I twitched my eyebrows in a gesture that said even more. Sofiyah left with a smile in a flurry of jangling and swirling skirts. A sudden wave of dizziness hit me again like a brick wall when I turned to look at my companion, but I shrugged it off. They were getting more and more common; I knew it was because I hadn't been getting enough sleep and had all but lost my appetite, but it didn't really occur to me as something I should be concerned about. I simply added it to the list of 'Things That Will Eventually Need Seeing To.' I could sleep when all this _stuff_ that kept piling up was gone.

"Little harpy," Shandra hissed the instant she was out of earshot. I was almost sad Neeshka had gone, as I could imagine the scathing insults on the tip of the tiefling's tongue after that little encounter. "Why, give me a few scraps of material and a week to starve myself and _I _could be that contrived _too_!" Shandra sneered. I giggled, discretely blinking away the coloured spots that swam in front of my eyes. She smirked and shot me a devilish look. "Look at those scrawny little arms. I could take her."

"I'm certain you could, but for Sal's sake please don't," I replied with a smile. I adored Shandra, now that we worked together. She was a quick learner and was becoming a fast friend, making the loss of my old life somewhat more bearable.

"What's that, m'lady?"

"Nothing, Sal, just..._admiring_ your newest employee," Shandra clarified, with an extravagant movement of her eyebrows.

"Oh, Sofy? Well, I don't pay her." I felt a little spark of gratification, or perhaps that was just something snapping in my neck. "Though from the looks of it I should, eh?" He nodded his head at where she was surrounded by a throng of desperate soldiers, tittering incessantly at their attentions while they motioned over for drinks.

"Aye," She added in the same, dead flat note. I eyed my glass warily, and decided that I felt light-headed enough without being drunk.

"I...think I'll head over to the Keep, Shandra." She glanced up at me as I stood.

"You feeling alright?" she asked, concerned. Somehow, she always knew when I was lying, or when I was pretending. It was a particularly aggravating talent that only she, Retta, and Casavir seemed to share. Daeghun just managed to make me feel guilty over regardless of what I said was the truth or not.

"Mm," I said, screwing up my eyes at the sudden head rush. "Just...feeling a little off, that's all." Somewhere in the back of my skull a Dwarven clan began a mining expedition. I winced. I had to get out of here.

"Come on, then," she said softly. As if she had been reading my mind, she took my wrist in her hand and lead me outside to get some air.

"It's nothing, really," I insisted. She was stronger, I realised as I let myself lean on her a little. Although she was a few years my senior, part of me felt proud at the way she was growing, even if it was entirely her own doing.

"Yeah, right, like that _gutting_ you had before was just a flesh wound." Her sarcasm was muffled, I realised. That was probably a bad sign. "Sit down for a bit..." Her voice was beginning to echo, and I began to wonder why I could barely feel her hands tighten around my arms.

"No, no, it's ok, I'll go to the Keep..." I had to sit down, but I also had to be somewhere where no one would see. This had come on so suddenly that I couldn't tell if it was real or not. I just wanted it to end.

"Like Hell you will. Evie, your eyes aren't focussing..." I noticed dully that she was right as she wavered in and out of clarity. Perhaps it was the lack of food. Or the complete lack of sleep. Or the way I poured every part of me into my new role as Captain and Saviour so I'd forget just how much I'd lost. My throat was suddenly dry and my eyelids strained to stay open under a rapidly increasing weight.

"I'm fine, I just..." I just needed to get back to the Keep and sit down, and refuel, and I'd be fine again. Well, that's what I tried to say. Instead, I turned around a little too fast, and found the ground growing ever closer until the side of my face collided with the grass, wet with light summer rain. I hadn't fainted, I noticed as her voice reached my ears, dull and barely audible. Crashing over me like a tidal wave came the realisation that I was so, _so_ tired. My head began throbbing with a growing intensity until all I could hear was the ringing in my ears and the sound of someone moaning. It was probably me, which was embarrassing to say the least. Of all the places this could have happened...

I was lifted off the ground by a large pair of arms I didn't recognise, and suddenly I was moving.

"Oh Gods, Ishkan, thank you," I heard her say above the heavy blanket that had been placed on my senses. For no apparent reason I wanted to burst into tears, but that would have to wait. I remembered Ishkan well. A half-orc with more sense than most humans and with a soft spot for anyone he considered a lady. Of course, that made sense. I'd noticed him standing around outside before I'd fallen. I'd have to thank him once I knew what was what again.

"Go round the back." I heard myself say in a feeble croak, instantly thankful as I felt Ishkan change direction to go behind the inn rather than in front and through the main doors of the Keep where everyone would see. I wanted to thank him immediately, but couldn't say anything or even move. I was weak as a newborn and the intensifying, painful pulse in my head was making it hard to even think straight. I was shivering, now, though I wasn't cold as far as I could tell. My stomach churned and I wanted to vomit. I closed my eyes tight and tried to let go of what I felt, to just be unaware of this indignity and discomfort. Somehow, everything started to dull further until I was not only shivering but also numb. Muffled voices bounced off my consciousness. I was being moved again, shifting position. A strong, more familiar warmth took me, and with what strength I could gather I focussed solely on that, until it started to wash over everything else.

And then, I took my own advice, and thought about nothing at all.

-+-+-+-

There was an anxious, uneasy look in Ishkan's eyes as I opened the door to see him standing there. I couldn't remember why I was in the infirmary at that particular moment, but was thankful I was as I saw what he carried. He handed her limp body to me, relieved, and for a moment panic rushed my senses as I felt how light she was, and how shallow her breathing had become.

At least she _was_ breathing. That was a definite plus.

Shandra followed soon after, garbling a thank-you to the half-orc before following me into a side room.

"What happened?" I asked, as soon as I remembered myself. I laid her on the bed and remembered the training every one of us had gone through repeatedly before I left the temple, letting myself forget for a moment that she wasn't just another wounded soldier.

"I don't know. She was fine just a moment ago…" Shandra said quickly, coming down to kneel beside her.

"Did she fall? Was she hurt?" She seemed alright, and was breathing steadily now. The colour had drained from her face, though, and now that we were inside I could hear the soft whimpers that came from between her tightly clenched teeth. I wasn't strictly a medic, and I knew there were others that could be summoned who would deal with the situation better than I was, but it didn't occur to me to actually send for them. Not very much _did_ occur to me but the state of the woman in front of me.

"Yeah, she fell. But she wasn't hurt by it, I don't think. She looked a little…dizzy…before…"

"Dizzy?" I repeated, searching below her jawline for the faint beat of her heart.

"I don't know, something wasn't right. Neeshka was just outside too so I asked her to get Zhjaeve, but I don't think she's sick, just..." I felt her forehead, her pulse, took in the pallor of her skin, and mulled over what could have caused it.

"She's not." I said finally, sighing with relief. "She's just..."

"Exhausted." Shandra finished for me. I nodded slowly, not taking my eyes off her face even as we found an extra blanket and draped it over her. Shandra in a moment of clarity reached down and pulled off her soft leather boots and belt before tucking the blanket back around her.

"Silly girl," she said with a smirk, though her creased forehead did little to hide her concern. I nodded absently. "Don't tell her that," she added quickly. "Don't tell her she was just tired. Tell her she was sick or something." The thought had already crossed my mind. An actual sickness was probably a lot more acceptable than just tiredness, despite its obvious effects. She gave too much of herself at once, and it had taken its toll.

At least it was now and not in the heat of battle that she faltered. Though perhaps that wasn't the right word. I was certain that somehow she'd continue fighting until it was no longer a problem for her to give in to a weakness that was all too justified. I couldn't put it right. She was anything but weak. Just young, perhaps. Reckless.

"I will," I heard myself say, still studying the way her brow knit together even as she tried to sleep. "Don't bother Zhjaeve, though. She just needs rest." I pulled my eyes away and glanced up at Shandra, who was smiling faintly at me.

"Sure," she said. She rose to her feet and, squeezing the Captain's hand over the blanket, turned to leave. "Take care of her, alright?" she added quickly with a final look before she was gone.

I looked back down at the broken woman who lay on the bed, her face screwed up and twitching involuntarily. No, not broken. Just...mortal. It was getting harder and harder to remember that, these days. Every mission we went on, every time she proved us wrong and overcame the impossible odds facing us with a grin on her face, I thought it less and less likely that we should fail at all. It sounded like a gargantuan task when it was all lined out before us, when it finally became clear that what we had to find and fight was something very real and very dangerous. But even as the gith's voice grew more and more solemn, she had just nodded, and asked what needed to be done, without looking back, and without question. She had already done what I never could. But then I saw her now, and wondered if it was worth it. She wasn't made for this sort of thing. No one was, and it wasn't fair that something she had nothing to do with was coming back to haunt her. That scar on her chest wouldn't fade until this was over and done with, and I suspected she knew that well.. I remembered the way she was when I first met her, and wondered if the bright, ever cheerful girl still looking for an adventure would ever come back.

Some strange impulse made me stroke her hair back from her face, which still looked a little pained. Her cheekbones were a little more hollow than I remembered, and there were blotchy, dark purple bags under her eyes that told me she still wasn't sleeping enough. She was a passionate woman, that was easy enough to see. Beautiful, too, even with the months of this life taking their toll.

She was pushing herself too far, as if she thought she was more than she was. Just a human, just a woman, just like any other. Immediately another side of me claimed that wasn't true and I knew it. I'd told her as much. She was unlike anyone I'd ever known, and perhaps that was fortunate as she was overpowering enough as it was, in a way I couldn't be sure was good or bad. All I knew was that the part of me that claimed the latter was the same side that had moulded me into the man I'd become before I'd even realised it was happening. I didn't want to be so dispassionate, and I didn't want to be so duty-bound that I forgot everything that had made me _want_ to be a Paladin in the first place. But then what was the alternative? Letting myself go and tasting the darkness as I threw myself into battle in the Well? I didn't want to be that person either, but I'd been one of the two for so long that I began to forget what I was like _before_ it all happened. Before the Well, before the order, before Julia died. It was only when I met the Captain that I started to remember.

Suddenly her face screwed up in pain, and my hand, still absently trailing over the tip of her ear, froze. She hissed something out I couldn't understand, and shifted beneath the blankets. A whimper escaped her lips and one of her hands reached up shakily to cover mine.

"_It hurts_" were the only two words I could discern. At least I could do something about _that_. The warm magic ran along my veins until it flowed from my hand and caressed her head in healing light. I could have sworn she whispered my name, but perhaps that was just vanity having its way. I murmured a few more words and as the sleeping spell washed over her I saw her fingers relaxing and falling to rest beside her slightly parted lips. A single word breathed out before she slipped into a calm, quiet unconscious, and this time there was no mistaking it. She must have seen me, then, for why else would she be calling for me? Surely if she wanted a healer Zhjaeve would have been the one to ask for, though I reasoned that in her state she'd probably forgotten about the relatively new addition to our group. Still...part of me knew that the gith wasn't the one she looked for in battle if she was injured. I shook myself, scolding my thoughts and deciding that there were a thousand other reasons for her behaviour, one very important one being that it was none of my business. Besides, the train of thought that resulted from any other considerations could never end well, even were I audacious enough to follow it.

She looked strangely serene when she slept. Peaceful, almost. If only I could put her to sleep like that the rest of the time she could finally relax. It was hard being a leader. I knew it well enough, and she was finding it out all too quickly. Leading an army did not fit well with concern for individuals, and that was her problem. Men had to die for others to live, and she seemed to think that by working hard enough she could change that. It was admirable, but hardly practical. She probably knew it, too, which was likely just another source of frustration. The scars that crossed her face had faded slightly to the same deep, coppery red as her hair. Not for the first time I wondered where she could have come from to receive such colouring. A single, wavy lock had fallen across her face when she moved, and I brushed it back in a strange echo of that one moment of impulsiveness long ago in the Flagon I'd worked to erase from my memory. Maybe it was just another excuse to touch her skin again. It was soft, rosy, and electric. It was always warm, too, and not just from the sudden illness. Whenever I'd healed her, whenever I'd brushed against her skin, I always remembered how it was like nothing else I'd felt. Of course I'd known women before, but there was something different, something I couldn't quite figure out. Something in the way her eyes locked my gaze to hers, so I found I couldn't look away even if I wanted to. Something that made me want to protect her with my life and beyond. Something in the way her skin pulsed under my fingertips. Instinct told me to stop, as did every other sense I'd honed over the years, but I didn't want to. There was a part of her that wasn't quite right, and I still didn't know why or how. I noticed idly that around her hairline there was a faint scattering of freckles, larger and darker than those that swept across the bridge of her nose all the way up to where her thick, dark lashes swept over her cheeks. It was strange enough, but then there was very little about her that wasn't.

She wouldn't wake up for a while, but when she did it would be a little curious if I was still there. Besides, it was getting late, now. I stood, determined to leave without a second glance. After all, she was my leader, my Captain. Healing her wasn't a favour, said the stern, uncompromising voice of my paladin training, it was my duty. I took my eyes from her with more effort than was necessary, and took a step towards the door

"Oh, don't let me interrupt." It was snide, pointed, and laced with sarcasm. The very last person I wanted to see. "Looked like the two of you were having a _moment_ there. You _do_ know she's asleep, right?"

"What do you want, Bishop?" I asked neutrally, looking at him square in the face. I didn't want to argue with him. Not here, and not over this.

"I think it's what _you_ want that should concern you the most. What you're foolish enough to think you'll get, anyhow."

"And what is that?" I should have told him I didn't know what he was talking about. I should have ignored him, or at the very least refuted what he said. I suspected whatever I answered would get me the same retort.

"You're none too bright, Paladin, but you're not _that_ stupid." I stared levelly at him as he spoke. "Some of the men here," Bishop continued, "you've probably met them before, high-ranking soldier like you..."

I didn't want to be having this conversation at all, especially not with her sleeping barely a few feet away, and _especially_ not with him. His voice was nothing but mockery, but I nodded silently, clenching my fist to lessen the urge to punch the smirk off his face. I thought I'd rid myself of such things with my training, but whatever happened I would always be a man first and a paladin second. An admission that would have earned me heavy chastisement back in the temple.

"Well people talk," Bishop began again, rolling his eyes around the room before fixing them on me, "heard you had some kind of trouble back in Neverwinter. Something big enough to make you flee all the way to that run-down Well in the wilderness."

"What does that have to do with you? I don't believe for a second that you've never--"

"Well, I'm just a little confused," he interrupted me smoothly as if I'd never started, speaking in a slow, arrogant tone that I'm sure he knew was making me angrier and angrier, though I fought to control myself. In battle I didn't object to his presence, as anyone could see he was a skilled fighter. Other than that, I just kept out of his way, as any kind of confrontation was the last thing that was needed. I knew there was no world in which one of us would choose the presence of the other. We were natural enemies. But it wouldn't escalate if I didn't let it. And I wouldn't, I'd remember every reason I had to ignore his words and remember who he was. Besides, this was becoming more and more of a monologue., and all I had to do was not let his empty words get to me as he started again, "I always thought you _Paladins_ didn't have much else to hold on to but loyalty," he spat the word like a curse, "Dutiful to a fault, supposedly." Instantly I could see where this was going as his voice became lower and his eyes bored down on me like a predator's. "But _you_...well, I guess _you_ had a hard time believing Neverwinter was right all the time, right?"

I clenched my teeth to stop me biting out something I'd regret. All he wanted was a response and I didn't have to give him anything.

"It surprised me, you know," he continued with a smug, satisfied look that I was beginning to think was his only expression, "I thought you guys were supposed to be real do-gooders. Devoted entirely to a cause, a nation, its people, no matter what..."

"My problems and my past are mine and mine alone," I said with a coldness that surprised even myself. I thought of the woman behind me and why I couldn't let the animosity between the ranger and I interfere with her cause. She had lost so much already, and such petty squabbling would do nothing to take that away.

"Not Neverwinter's, and _certainly_ not yours, Bishop."

"Course not," he said, seemingly nonchalant but I'd met enough men of his type to know exactly what he wanted from me, and he wasn't going to get it. Not this time, anyway. "I'm sure a virtuous man like you wouldn't dream of lying to anyone, especially not yourself." He paused and I waited for the next blow to fall. "It's just...the way I see it, a man's gotta be honest with not only himself, but with his comrades, too."

"Just say what you want to say and be done with it," I let out before I could stop myself. His smirk took on an even _more_ satisfied edge.

"You lost faith in something as big as Neverwinter...what's to stop you from losing faith in this? Drop all that shite you feed yourself day in, day out and go against your own Captain?"

"_You_ of all people are questioning _my_ loyalty?" I asked incredulously. That had certainly taken me by surprise.

"What's so strange about that? Out of the two of us you're the one we know has that history. Hells, at least I _keep_ my promises." He nodded at where she still lay motionless, illustrating his continued contribution towards her cause. Irritatingly enough, I couldn't argue with that, though there were times I wished I could make him forget whatever reason he thought he had for staying on so long. _Now_ was one of those times, though I supposed, grudgingly, that he had just as much of a right to be here as I did.

"I don't need to prove myself to you. And you didn't come here because you were scared I'd _turn_ on her, that's for sure."

"_Her, _is it?" He immediately picked up on my slip, "So you're _not_ planning on running away from this?" What had seemed like a perfectly fitting response, what should have ended the argument, now seemed like I'd played right into his hand. "What, is the thought of _her_ more compelling than whatever it was you fled from last time?" So that was what this was about. I couldn't say I was surprised, though I was certainly running low on patience. "Hells, maybe you'll go so far in that direction you'll drop all your vows and just follow her right into death. Lose yourself to a woman. Can't say it's a bad way to go, but is that what you really want on your head?" I bit back the razor-sharp retort that burned on the tip of my tongue, and instead took a long, deep breath.

"I admire her, but I don't see why _that's_ an issue. I doubt there's a soul in this Keep that doesn't. What's more, unlike _you_, I _respect_ her"

"_Admire_?" He drew the word out thoughtfully. "What does that mean, I wonder?"

"She's my _Captain, _of course I care for her, I--"

"Well does your Captain _know_ how delusional you are?" I grit my teeth. "You know normally I hate handing out advice, but for you I'll make an exception. She didn't get where she is by bowing down like you at every opportunity. Just because you _respect_ her doesn't mean she'll respect you. Hells, you're _useful_, Paladin, I'll give you that, but do you _honestly_ think you're here for any other reason?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." I trotted out the old, yet still relevant, cliché and a slow grin spread over his face.

"See_ I _think you do," he shot back, immensely self-satisfied. Of course I knew, but I also knew he was the very last person I wanted to talk to about this or anything else.

"Stay away from her." It was another worn-out saying, but it certainly fit. He gave a long, lingering look at the woman lying still behind me and the corners of his mouth curled up even more as he saw the reaction I couldn't help. She was old enough to decide for herself, and I wouldn't begrudge her any happiness, far from it, but something screamed at me to keep him away. And not just because I'd rather he left, but because I'd known too many men like him, and I knew how they worked. Whatever happened, she would suffer for it. I just..._knew_, somehow. She was under enough pressure already without something like this creeping into the mix. That was why I'd wanted to avoid this at all costs. I wasn't confrontational by nature, and if years as a Paladin had taught me anything it was how to control myself. I'd tolerate him well enough as things stood, as after all it was her decision to let him stay, but I felt my discipline falter under that smug, snide stare of his.

"What's the matter, Paladin? Don't like the feeling of someone else moving in on your territory?"

"She's not my _territory_, Bishop, she's my _Captain_. It's time you started treating her like what she is."

"A woman?"

"Your _superior_. She hired you just like the rest of us, and you're acting as if--"

"_Did_ she, now? Think about it, holy man, she needed a tracker for a very _specific_ sort of mission, and that time's long past. Looks like we're up against undead, and even _I_ know how useful someone with your 'training'is. But as for me...well there's nothing for me to do that she couldn't _easily_ do herself. So why do you think I'm still around, huh?" Trusting the words of a man who was by nature untrustworthy was obviously a stupid idea, and yet I found them turning over in my mind and amplifying every little voice of doubt that remained. I clenched my fists until I felt my nails digging into my palms to try and calm myself.

"Just what the hell do you want?" I demanded, unusually aggressive. There was a pause as the smirk shifted sides, and he opened his mouth to respond.

"Will you keep it _down!_" came a harsh whisper from behind him. Shandra brushed past him and went to stand by the bed, looking over the Captain and glaring at the gap between the two of us. "Evie's _trying_ to sleep, and I could hear you from the hall! It's been a damn long day, she's sick, and _really_ doesn't need you two making it worse!" Despite the seriousness of the situation only a moment before, I couldn't help but think how only a woman could inject so much bite into such a quiet whisper. I suspected, with a sort of childish vindication on my part, that her words were directed more at Bishop than at I, for she shot him a look that could burn through a brick wall, but kept silent. Bishop snorted.

"Whatever. Just tell the princess when she wakes up that I'll be back in a day or four. Figured I'd teach those idiots she recruited something that might actually be useful," he said dismissively before leaving without a second glance.

"Shame. Looks like he'll miss the Solstice," she said quietly once he was out of earshot. I couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not, though the wry set of her mouth confirmed she couldn't have been _that_ devastated. She glanced back down at the Captain, still sleeping silently. "I hope Evie's well enough to be there. Sure she'd hate to miss it, from what I've heard. That Lisbeth really can _talk_..." She nodded her head towards the door. I followed her out with one last look.

"She will be." I said, trying to think objectively. "It's not too serious. A day or two of rest and she should be fine."

Shandra grinned. "Good. I got her something to wear."

"You did?"

"Well, it's not much, and I'm sure it's the last thing she's been thinking of, but it's the least I could do." She said with a shrug. It was no secret that the two of them had become fast friends, and I was certainly glad that the Captain had someone like her to talk to what with...everything.

"She'll appreciate it, Shandra."

"Yeah," she said quietly, "I'm just worried, you know? Well, I guess you do know, but still. It's..._frustrating_. I want to help her, and I want to do something more than just following her around and killing what she tells me to kill. But more than that I…I want her _not_ to have to do all the things that she…well…that she _has_ to do, you know?" She scowled in frustration.

"You're doing all you can, and she knows that. There's nothing more you can ask of yourself." I said in what I hoped was a comforting manner. My thoughts refused to order themselves, and I was feeling even less talkative than usual. Shandra nodded, though her hands still wrung nervously.

"Thanks...but I wish there was more I could do to help. I mean she lost her friends, her family, her entire _village_, and the second she was on her feet again she was running around the Keep sorting things out, and she hasn't stopped until right now…" She bit her lip, but a light suddenly illuminated her eyes. "Though I guess she's still got Lisbeth, right? Sweet little girl…"

I wasn't sure if sweet was the right word, having been interrogated by Lisbeth relentlessly as I'd left the makeshift chapel a few mornings back after praying. I'd done that a lot more since my own willpower had failed me and I'd been unable to call the ever-present magic forth, but that didn't bear thinking about. Not now, anyway. Lisbeth had questioned me about all sorts of unrelated things, launching into long, heartfelt accounts of her life in the village, of the Captain's old life, and of strange, mundane things that seemed to pop into her head at random. Having her follow me around as I went about my duties wasn't as annoying as I'd thought it would be, but still it was inconvenient to say the least. I'd turned to ask her if Bea, the cook who she'd been leant to for the time she was here, had anything for her to do, and she gave me the very same bright, gleeful, entirely open smile I'd seen on the woman she admired so much. The two of them could have been sisters, were they not so obviously different physically. Lisbeth was a small, slight girl, with straight brown hair and dark hazel eyes that had seen far too much yet still sparkled with whatever joy she had left. Almost a month had past since that fateful night, and the strange thing was that it seemed to be hitting the older, more experienced woman harder.

I pulled myself back to reality to see Shandra cocking her head to one side and giving me a wry, knowing smile. Knowing of what, exactly, I couldn't be sure. She wouldn't tell me, either, as we walked back to our rooms, trying to push to one side the more serious issues with light banter. The Solstice was in three days. I knew she'd be up by then, and wouldn't let a trivial thing like being incapacitated get in the way of her showing up. I also knew she'd be fine, as she had been in the past, but I couldn't help being concerned. It wasn't just because she was my leader, either. She was a friend, one of the few I cared to hold on to. I'd almost let her die, and that was still preying on my conscious even if something told me she had already forgotten about it. But I couldn't fail her like that again. I'd asked myself once if I'd die for her, even if not for her cause, and I knew that when the time came I wouldn't think twice. What was my life, anyway, beside hers? I was a disgraced soldier, barely a paladin, and if I did nothing else I'd protect her at all costs. It would have been easier if she actually needed the sort of protection I could offer.

I realised with a start that we stood at the apex of the corridors that led to the two separate hallways where our rooms were. Shandra reached for my hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze, the corners of her lips turning up in a faint, sad smile as if she knew exactly what I was thinking and knew, as I did, that there was nothing to be done but take the events one after the other and hoped for the best, as we always did. She bid me goodnight, I did the same, and we went our separate ways.


	14. Chapter 14

**A.N.** There's a sketch I did for this chapter, if anyone wants even more Casavir :p. It's for nearer the end of the chapter, and can be found through the link on my profile (about halfway down, under the update thing) and it's called chap14cas. There's the full one and the close up, because only his face is close to finished. Anyway, enjoy!

**Chapter Fourteen**

I didn't know why I was brushing my hair. There didn't seem like much of a point, considering I wasn't planning on sticking around for very long tonight. As the evening had grown nearer the Keep developed a strange new buzz to the air, and now the dusk light filtering in through the gauzy curtains was now accompanied by the shouts of activity from outside. For once, there was something happening that didn't involve blood, death or redecorating on any grand scale, and people looked...happy. It _did_ make me want totry harder to be more cheerful than I felt, but it was proving difficult with events _continuing_ to beat down on me.

I had awoken from a deep, fathomless sleep a few days ago and was told – none too subtly – that I was a bloody fool for running myself ragged and was to rest as much as possible. I didn't think that was entirely fair. After all, I'd been at the Keep an awful lot in between visits to neighbouring villages, Neverwinter, fighting, drilling, scouting...alright, so perhaps I _had_ beenworking a little too hard. But now I _was_ trying, and aside from my daily training and patrols, I was practically under house arrest. Not that it was _so_ bad. My bed was simple but comfortable, and the dark wood furniture in my little room here at the inn reminded me of West Harbour. Only _here_ I had a window that looked out over the courtyard, where I could lean back on the wide windowsill and watch the people moving from place to place. Although, as the fighting got more intense it was more like they were trying to get _away_ from somewhere than the other way around, but it was still a novelty for me. The same faces every day in West Harbour got old quickly, and I thought that if nothing else I'd miss the great pulse of _life_ in cities when I went back home. I caught myself on that thought immediately. I had no where left to really go _back_ to, so maybe I'd end up in a city after all...assuming I survived. After the incident outside the Phoenix Tail's bar, that was looking less and less likely.

They told me I was sick, but not how I'd got that way or what they did about it. Casavir had just said they'd been able to cure me as best they could, but that it would get worse unless I let myself rest more. And, as I had trouble believing anything he said was less than absolute truth, that was what I was doing, even though there really wasn't time for it. But at least I was smart enough to listen to people who cared about my life a whole lot more than I did. I wasn't feeling very relaxed as I sat there, though. If he came along and talked to me again in that calming, easy manner of his, _then_ maybe I'd feel relaxed. He had a way of speaking to me that made me feel a league taller than I was, like all the monstrous forces aligned against us were nothing more than childish worries I'd soon overcome. And, for the few moments he was there, I was calm. I needed it, as little as I wanted to admit that to anyone, let alone myself.

I looked at myself in the tarnished mirror on what was currently serving as a sort of vanity - if vanities were supposed to hold blades and whetstones as well as hairbrushes - and realised I'd been brushing the same lock of hair for the past few minutes. Resolutely, I twisted the whole bunch together and threw it back over my shoulder. The soldiers had seen me day in day out in the same leathers and platemail and tightly subdued braid wound into a bun, and I doubted they'd care much if my hair was _particularly _shiny on this fine, balmy evening. Still, looking my best would be nice for once. There were no scars that were particularly fresh, and the more obvious ones were covered by my clothing. That sticky, greenish yellow salve was helping to heal the larger bruises accumulated during my last burst of activity, and for once it didn't look like I'd been dragged backwards through a thorn bush. And the inaction...the relaxation prescribed was doing me good. My mind drifted back to that night and I wondered absently if Casavir's voice had been a dream or not. Everything was so hazy, and reaching back for the memories was like searching through sludge for something I knew would always be lost. I rebelled against my ego and hoped that he really had been there. It was comforting, that way. If anyone had to see me at my worst, I was glad it was him. With that thought my cheeks lit up in resistance as I thought about how often, these days, that was happening. It was a strange predicament, as I didn't want _anyone_, including him, to see me like that. I trusted him, I realised, probably more than anyone, and I didn't want him to think any less of me for my weakness.

There was a ribbon tucked to one side beneath a dagger sheathe, and I tugged it out curiously. The colour was a deep, dark maroon that rippled in the dimming light as it spilt from its position and unravelled. Without thinking about what it was I was doing, I slid it behind my neck and used it to push my hair back as I expertly tied a large, billowing bow on one side of my face as I'd done so often in my younger years, regarding the result in front of me. My freckles danced across my nose as I wrinkled it. I looked about twelve years old. Hardly the age of the battle-hardened warrior Captain I was supposed to be. The thought was a strange one, I realised, as that was only seven years younger than I was now. I was still, by all rights, a teenager, and though I'd officially come of age a while ago I still felt, in many ways, like a girl and not a woman. I yanked one tendril of the ribbon irritably and watched as the whole contraption came to pieces and my hair closed in over my face in waves. _Shiny_ waves, at least. What a joke this was. I couldn't possibly be a Captain, and the city of Neverwinter couldn't _possibly_ be entrusting me with...well...all _this_. It made no logical sense, and yet some deeper, secret part of me knew it did. An image rose in my mind of a mighty hand flicking a pawn across a chessboard in a flippant gesture, and I thumbed my right hand idly, trying to push the thought to the very back of my mind and thinking of something, _anything_ else.

I thought of my companions, of all the ones I hadn't been spending much time with as of late, but they always seemed to find their own distractions. Grobnar was still in the basement playing with that new toy of his, which was no real surprise. I sent up a silent prayer that the bucket of blades and gears he'd taken such a fancy to remained relatively _inanimate_. Sand...well, Sand had happily set up shop in the great library of the Keep, most of which remained intact, thankfully, and whenever I passed I thought I could hear him positively _humming_ to himself with delight as he explored the great, ancient tomes to be found on those shelves. Qara's whereabouts were a mystery to me, which was no great loss in and of itself as my tolerance for her unique brand of conversation was wearing thin. Neeshka and Khelgar were always around, often arguing unconvincingly – to any that knew them, at least – on the lower floor of the inn over a drink or five, thoroughly frightening the passers by that had never had the pleasure of seeing a tiefling's tail _thrashing_ with annoyance. Shandra was never far from my side or my thoughts, nor was Casavir as they both seemed to have made it their own personal mission to keep me in good health and high spirits, and I silently thanked the two of them for it from the bottom of my heart. I had lost my village, but...I had gained so much as well.

I drew comfort from that thought even as my mind's eye settled on the smirking visage of Bishop. He had been even more suggestive than usual as he left on a mission to the south, taking with him a score of similarly reclusive archers. Even the most childish side of me didn't have any illusions that he'd be back by tonight. It was bad timing, but then it couldn't be helped. Besides, I couldn't imagine he'd have any time at all for folk dances and festivities and anything at all but the drink. My roaming mind came back to this evening, and I wondered why I wasn't very excited. I normally loved things like this, and dancing was something I'd always been good at. Maybe I was just growing up. Maybe I was just in a foul mood. Either way, tonight I'd have to smile and laugh and would probably be dragged into a dance or two, though I really wasn't in the frame of mind to be merry.

A knock on the door shook me out of my trance, and when I found my voice to invite them in, Shandra's head rounded the door with a mischievous glint in her large, sapphire blue eyes as her hair cascaded down one shoulder like a river of honey.

"What?" I asked, my eyes narrowing suspiciously. She ignored my tone and strode in, motioning for me to stand up. I did so confusedly and she sighed like I was a child with dirty hands at dinner time. "_What_?" I asked again, this time actually interested.

"Evie, you're not wearing _that_, are you?" she asked incredulously. I looked down at my knee-high brown leather boots with dark ruby coloured leggings tucked in and a long-sleeved lighter tunic that was rather ornate considering its function. I thought I looked nice, anyway. At least it was more social than my usual uniform of platemail, chain and thick, worn leather. She gave me a long, hard look and I took in her full-length, blue dress with its plunging neckline and dark, patterned bodice.

"I didn't think to bring a dress on this little adventure," I said by way of explanation, hoping it would make a subtler point as well. Her eyes softened but she wouldn't let it go.

"Well _I_ did, and here it is," she pushed a small, dark package into my hands that I hadn't even realised she'd been carrying.

"Shandra...I don't want to wear a dress..." I said feebly. I wasn't sure why. I suppose as I got older I had less and less time for them. They got in the way, and more often than not I would go out on patrols which required a very different sort of attire. And now...I hadn't worn one since almost a year ago. Even then and even now I noticed how they would show more fresh scars, and how my arms were too toned by my sword to be feminine enough. I couldn't have it both ways, though I sure wanted it. I looked up at Shandra and realised that this meant a lot more to her than she was letting on. I didn't question what she'd paid or what she'd done to get the dress. Instead, I nodded and changed quickly, rolling my eyes as she took the opportunity to berate me for not resting another godawful gash at my side. I adjusted the neckline and regarded myself in the small mirror curiously. It didn't look stupid, that was the first thing I noticed. The second thing was that it did, in fact, look rather stunning. More to the point, _I_ looked rather stunning in it. I felt a smile creep across my face.

"_See_? I _knew_ you'd like it. It looks beautiful on you," she said with a grin. It was a shade between the dark, blood red of my leggings and the ruby of my tunic, and I loved it instantly. The hardened tips of my boots peaked out from under the hemline that fell down to just below my knees, and the sleeves, tight until they stopped at my elbows, covered the multitude of scars and the fact that the only thing keeping me human-shaped was the muscle I'd built up. IȠbarely even noticed the lines slashing my face in four. They all seemed to fade away as I looked at myself and felt rejuvenated. A bubble of excitement welled up in me, and suddenly I _was_ looking forward to the evening. I didn't have to be '_on'_ all the time. I could just be another nameless village girl out for a dance once more...

"You know if Casavir's there yet?" she asked me absently, twirling a lock of golden hair around her finger in a gesture I'm sure would have looked innocent on anyone I didn't know so well.

"Afraid not. Why would I? I haven't left this place in a while." I jerked my head at the assorted piles of..._things_ scattered around my makeshift room in the inn. She shrugged and idly ran a hand over my suit of armour, currently propped up on a stand as she toyed with a slender chain around her neck.

"Don't know, just wondering if he's come to check on you this afternoon or anything. You were in a pretty bad way when he found us." He had come shortly after I'd woken up to see if I was still unconscious, and filled me in on what happened. As for today I hadn't seen him at all, and told Shandra so. "Ah, well you know him, always got one thing or another to see to..." she said with a shrug.

"I suppose so," I replied neutrally, "I still need to thank him properly for that."

"Well tonight's your chance, you know," she winked, and I grew even more confused. I _did_ need to thank him. I always needed to thank him for everything, even though I got the feeling he didn't do any of it for the thanks. But I'd deal with that later. For now, I had somewhere to be. I heard music wafting in through my window as the sun lazily continued its decent over the treetops to the west.

"How do I look?" I asked Shandra, turning to face her and spreading my arms. She smiled warmly, and confidence instantly rushed in to fill the dull black spot left by recent events.

"Beautiful." On that happy note I grinned and nodded my head towards the door. I thought over her words and suddenly I realised that I wasn't just feeling a little nauseous because of the sickness, rather I had butterflies infesting the pit of my stomach. Actual _butterflies!_ Well, of course not _actual_ butterflies as that would be a serious cause for concern, but I was nervous. And I was _never_ nervous before, so why now? I pushed it to one side and thought of this night as one final opportunity to hold onto the part of me that was retreating rapidly. I imagined myself as the same giggly, joyful girl I'd been before I'd watched Amie die in front of me. Amie...with her eyes, her skin, her hair so like Shanrda's...I cut the thought off instantly and slipped back into the fiery, entrancing person I'd once been that never turned down a party and felt the nervousness retreat. It was easier than I thought to fall back into the old role, and that gave me some comfort. I thought back to Shandra's strange behaviour as she walked beside me speaking of idle things, and wondered if Casavir would even be there at all. Was he one for these sorts of events? I still didn't know him, and that fact grated on me more than I could say. I wanted the same man I'd seen on that one peculiar night on the roof of the flagon to come forward again, somehow. I knew it wouldn't be easy, but...that same voice told me that it would be worth it.

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Lisbeth danced like she was loving every second of it, her skirt lifted to her knees as her feet moved in a complicated pattern to the rhythm. It was like most provincial dances, but the childish laughter that filled the courtyard would have made the weary soldiers and peasants clap as they did regardless of whether she was good or not. But she _was_ good, she was excellent in fact. Their Captain stood to one side, a huge grin on her face as she applauded proudly. I remembered how the younger girl had spoken of her as if she was an angel from the heavens, with such admiration that the woman herself seemed so unaware of. Had she really taught this girl to dance as she did? I thought of the former's grace in even the grittiest of combat situations, and reasoned that it was certainly possible.

What was in the day a centre of operations, a huge makeshift square visited by thousands of feet all heading somewhere else, was now bathed in late dusk and the flickering firelight of several roaring bonfires, and was filled with soldiers and officers alike, as well as their families and anyone else that hadn't yet been taken to a safer place to wait out the war. The soft wind was a welcome respite to the day's heat, though the night was growing ever cooler. Summer had arrived in full force, and the evening was a beautiful one. The celebration had been going on for a few hours already, but I myself had only just arrived back from a routine patrol around the larger perimeter. After abandoning my armour for something simpler I'd been drawn to the largest, central ring of spectators by the uplifting sound of laughter and music. There was hardly a soul in the courtyard without a smile on their face, and the errant thought entered my mind that morale would certainly be through the roof if all went to plan this evening.

I tried to turn my attention to other things, though, as for tonight I was resolute that I would be a man first, and another part of her army second. After all, she herself was laughing and talking with people I vaguely recognised as raw recruits right up to sergeants, treating them as friends regardless of rank. But then I remembered how she'd speak no differently to Nevalle than she would to someone that would be below the notice of most people. Not that it was a bad thing, of course not. It was just...surprising in this day. I supposed that where she was from there was little in the way of rank, but even so it was...refreshing to see someone that hadn't been poisoned by the nobility. As if sent by the Gods themselves purely to illustrate my point, Qara walked past the small semi-circle with an indignant snort, a long, heavy dress trailing after her that looked remarkably out of place surrounded by the peasants that kept their attention on the swirling girl in the centre and the Captain alight with laughter. It was right that she should be happy, at least for this night. My concept of morality had certainly been turned on its head these past few years, but I knew that it was wrong that a woman like her should suffer as she did when all she had ever tried to do was make the world a better place. Even if she didn't realise it. Seeing her so pleased seemed to restore a little of my faith in the world, and I prayed the night would never end, so she would never again have to face the cruel, painful realities of the world beyond the music and the laughter saturating the air as twilight faded and the pale moon rose higher in the sky.

The music finished with a round of applause and Lisbeth took a sweeping bow, her cheeks still a rosy red from her exertions. There was a shout of encores that echoed through the crowd, but the girl herself politely declined and stepped to one side, still grinning. Attention was drawn back to the Captain as a soldier stepped forward and bowed theatrically. I saw the corners of her mouth curl up against her will, eyes sparkling, as he produced a large, blood-red amaryllis flower seemingly from nowhere and presented it to her with a flourish. I saw her glancing around subtly, almost looking a little embarrassed at the sudden increase in interest from the crowd as she shot a final look at the girl that was still alight with merriment.

A fast-paced fiddle tune started up and her face creased in laughter as she recognised it. With equal theatrics she gave a low, sweeping curtsey, taking the flower and tucking it into the folds of her hair as she accepted his offered hand and began to dance. The smile on her face was infectious, and I found myself smiling with her. Happiness after such hardships was something to be cherished, even if the battle was far from over. It occurred to me that I'd gladly give up my life if it meant that smile would never have to fade from her face. She'd made me see a beauty in the world I thought was lost, and if my final action was to preserve a flame as bright as hers just a while longer, it would all have been worth it. Others began to join in, and soon the circle broke apart as the music increased in volume. It was a quick, merry folk dance that the soldier was evidently surprised she knew every intricate step to, her boots kicking up dust from the ground as she spun, crimson skirt flaring outwards.

She moved with a fighter's grace and a woman's charms. It wasn't surprising, as I glanced around, that I wasn't the only one that couldn't keep my eyes off her. Did they even know who she was? Well, of course they knew she was their Captain, but did they know any more, like I did? I had seen her at her best and at her worst, and my admiration had only increased. She was too young for such a role, yet took it on like she'd been born for the job. I thought back to the scar on her chest that would never fully heal, and wondered if, perhaps, she _was_.

The soldier's arm flung out suddenly, and like a ribbon she she spun away, her arms in the air. My world slowed down, and everything outside her aura went out of focus for one everlasting second. There was her face, illuminated in torchlight, her fiery hair sweeping around her body like veils of silk. Her eyes, always alight, somehow found mine among the hundreds, and there was a faint smile, almost a smirk that broke out even as time sped up and she was the centre of attention. In that moment she was overpoweringly beautiful, like a painting of a goddess in her own temple, worshipped by many, known by none. And all I could do was gape as if I was a teenager again. I tore my eyes away, feeling the self-reproach welling up. But then...why shouldn't I think so? She _was_ beautiful, and _any_ fool could see that. _And_, unlike them, I knew her. Well, at least I thought I did. She was open and brutally honest enough for me to have a pretty accurate idea of her and her character, but I still wanted to know more. There was another level she hadn't let anyone see yet. I'd caught a glimpse of it as she trembled in my arms in West Harbour before she steeled herself for what she knew she had to do. The same thing that flickered in her eyes that night on the Flagon's roof...

She was fascinating, but it certainly wasn't lust I felt, just...admiration. I probably shouldn't have, but I found I couldn't help myself. She drank and cursed like a sailor, she had a blazing disregard for law and proper conduct, she was savagely honest, and all in all was, I admitted, a breath of sweet, fresh air. There was a good heart there, despite what she may have thought.

But...she was still my leader, and I wouldn't let myself forget that. Admiration was one thing, but beyond that was a distraction I didn't trust myself to deal with. A soft hand on my shoulder made my head jerk up, and I realised the music had changed entirely. I turned my head to see her there, smiling at me in that wry, curious way she did.

"Enjoy that?" She asked, raising an eyebrow that made her ice blue eyes dance with firelight. It could have been a reprimand but as ever her voice just held good-natured amusement. Somehow the bright, childlike excitement in her eyes made her look younger in spirit if not in years. A gust of wind toyed with a lock of her hair, lifting it in front of her face before she pursed her lips and blew it back in place with barely a thought.

"Aye, my lady. You are...quite a performer," I said once I found my voice again.

"Oh, well just _wait_ til I've a few more drinks down me," she laughed, "I'll be a one-woman circus." Her name was called from far away and she gave me one last, mirthful look from eyes hooded under sweeping dark lashes before following the sound. Once more I was left to battle my own mind.

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"You're drunk," I said matter-of-factly. Shandra shook her head in reply with far more effort than should have been necessary. She raised one finger to illustrate the protest she was no doubt trying to form in her open mouth, then apparently gave up and sighed.

"Yes," she conceded wearily. I smirked, brushing back the golden strands that had fallen in front of her face and taking one of her hands in mine.

"Come on, let's get you back," I suggested even as I began to lead her towards the Keep, following the others that had taken their fill of the evening.

"Least I'm not as bad as whassername over there..." she was slurring, but her eyes still held the fierce intelligence that told me she was still very much there in mind if not in body. She'd nodded her head vaguely to the right, and I looked to see Elanee dancing, actually _dancing, _with a man I instantly remembered - as halfelves were hardly a common sight - as an excellent marksman from one of the forest villages to the east. She looked happy, and that lifted my spirits to no end. I'd never been close to her, but even I could appreciate when someone was long overdue for a break from such stringent self-control.

"H...hi, Shandra..." Shandra's head whirled around to see a young man, perhaps a year or two her senior, biting his lower lip which curved into a nervous smile as I saw her eyebrows raise appreciatively.

"Hey there, Jorran." Her grin threatened to split her very face in two, and I remembered seeing the two of them laughing and talking earlier like old friends though I was convinced they'd never met before.

"You heading back to the Keep?" I asked him, watching with interest as he tore his eyes from her flushed, smiling face to nod at me. "Good, then you can see she gets to her room in one piece...?" he nodded again, this time a little more enthusiastically, and offered his arm. Her grin, if it was possible, widened, and she moved to take it before spinning back suddenly.

"_You_, need to go over _there_, alright?" She jerked her head to the right as I conceded without even looking. She leant forward suddenly and planted a kiss on my cheek before turning back - winking halfway through - and threading her arm through Jorran's. He looked back at me gratefully before focussing his attention on the giggling woman beside him, the pair stumbling back towards the Keep as the evening dwindled down.

I smiled, shaking my head as I turned back to see what she'd been talking about. The last, large bonfire was still crackling, though even that was fading in intensity, and as I scanned the area around I saw him sitting there, staring into its depths with one of those soft, brooding expressions of his. I took slow, careful steps towards one of the many stands scattered around for drink to get a better view before he noticed me.

Casavir's tall, lean form was more visible without his armour on, with broad shoulders and arms toned by the use of his weapon over the years. His profile was strong, a long, straight nose forming a perfect angle with his chin, accentuating his angular features. Oceanic blue eyes, the chaotic colour of a rain cloud, stared out levelly from beneath dark eyebrows knotted together in thought. Black, inky hair was growing longer in places, escaping from the cropped, practical style he kept more under control when he'd had a few days at the Keep. The firelight lit up his tanned skin as he stared intensely at its centre. Always so controlled. I looked to the drink stand and the thought came to my mind that people were always bigger, more open versions of themselves when they'd had enough down them, and tonight I wanted to know exactly who it was I was talking to...

I swept up two mugs of mulled ale, adding my own special touch from a bottle nearby, and made my way over. I stumbled as I sat down next to him, which was irritating as I never stumbled, even when I _was _completely inebriated. He smiled at me carefully, and held my shoulder to steady me.

"I think you've had enough to drink, my lady."

"Nonsense!" I insisted, waving the fiery liquid in front of him. His lips curved further upwards as he came to a decision and nodded, not taking his eyes off my face as he took it from me and drunk. Well, at least that two-by-four plank of wood that everyone _else _saw tied to his back seemed to be missing for tonight. But something was still troubling him, I could see it brewing in his eyes as clear as if he'd told me so himself.

"You're awfully gloomy, Casavir. Thought I'd have knocked some of that out of you by now," I said jovially and took another swig. I was already pleasantly merry, and the fire blazing next to us just made the warmth inside of me bubble to the surface.

"Just...amazed we have survived so long, if I am honest with you," he replied quietly with a small smile. I cocked my head to one side in an indication for him to continue. Normally I'd hate people filling my head with more thoughts of death than were crammed in there already, but for him I'd make an exception. "I..." He shook his head suddenly, "I am sorry. I should not be speaking of such things given the occasion and our surroundings. But it is...a difficult thing to forget." I clanked my mug against his.

"Then _clearly_ you haven't embraced the spirit of the holiday in the slightest." I was determined to break him out of his shell, by force if necessary. He indulged me with a faint smile and another drink. "There you go. It may be exciting that we're still alive but there's a whole lot more to living than simply surviving to see the next sunrise." I realised belatedly how profound that was. Initially it was a simple way of expressing my beliefs and lifestyle - namely that there was no point in living if you can't even _enjoy _your own life - but it was true about more than such basic things. Were I in a sharper mental state I'd have taken a moment to sincerely doubt whether my way of life – involving short-lived romances, games of chance, drink and spontaneous, irrational decisions – truly _did _provide more happiness than the servitude I'd scoffed at all my life. Looking at him now he seemed ten years younger than he did when he was on the battlefield. He actually looked his age, not more than five summers more than mine, and his eyes smiled at me as they shimmered with the light from the fire.

He never called me by my name. I didn't know what to make of that, but didn't want to press it. Old habits died hard - a fact I knew all too well - and I wouldn't force him to give up whatever codes he still clung to unless it was his own decision. In that way, at least, I had matured.

"You are right. As always, it seems." There was the admiration I'd seen so many times before and marvelled at. He was a beacon of light in a world growing steadily darker, and yet somehow he admired the flicker of goodness I had left in my person. I knew I'd never betray those feelings, nor his trust, and if nothing else that would keep me on the path I followed. His eyes were still shadowed from me, and there was silence.

"Give me your hand," I said suddenly. His eyebrows rose uncertainly as he looked back up. "I'm not going to bite it off, I just want to...look." Of course I had knowledge of such things. Living in a village such as mine it would be difficult to grow up without being taught the old ways of fortunes and readings. I didn't believe in them like some did. I didn't think that the stars in the sky or the leaves spinning into patterns in tea literally directed my fateȬ but sometimes when I read things, when events seemed to line up so perfectly with what my fortune had in store ever since those lines were etched on my palm, it made me see things in a different way. Perhaps this would let me know the man at last. He moved his right hand forward uncertainly and I gently took it between mine, moving around until I was up next to him to make it easier.

"What..."

"I'm working, here." I smirked up at him and his eyes lit up with understanding. I wondered what paladins thought about such primitive, pagan ideas? Hells, I knew Sune didn't have a problem, but I'd been lectured at length by several priests passing through the village on the many moral failings of Sunites...Casavir didn't seem to mind though, and on the contrary shifted closer so I could see clearly. There was a curious, innocent quality to the way he opened his palm to me and watched my every move. "You're balanced," I started, "Even if you don't think so. And you always think things through. Sometimes too much..." I murmured, my thumb brushing over the back of his hand and knuckles. "Smart, too, but I guess you knew that already." I turned his hand over and traced the grooves, the forks, the losses and gains, the past and future.

"You love to travel, looks like you've done a lot. Less in the future, though. Something's...unsettled, uncertain, like you don't know where you fit." My finger traced over his, then downwards over skin toughened and smoothed by years of swordplay and hard living. I could feel his eyes following every tiny movement, and could almost sense his fascination. "You're passionate, but not aggressive. Both in life, and..." I smiled faintly and ran the tip of my finger over a deep, pronounced line, "Your heart. Damn, you're complex..." I mumbled, pleased to hear a short whisper of laughter from him as I studied the endless plateaus of criss-crossing grooves that spoke of a long, hard life that had given so much to the world, yet had so much more to offer.

A cross, perhaps a star on the pad of flesh nearest his thumb told me even more, something that made want to smile even wider. He'd find true love, if fortune played out, though not without difficulty. But it would happen in the end, and that pleased me more than I could say. Casavir deserved every good thing that came to him, I thought. It still bewildered me how someone like him could stand the company of someone like me. Lines crossed over that I hadn't noticed before, colouring my cheeks as I realised it probably wouldn't be wise to mention what they were supposed to mean and destroy any ideas he might have of mine being polite company. I looked up to him, squeezing his hand between mine briefly in an affectionate gesture before letting it go. "Thank you."

"For what? Surely I should thank _you_ for such a thorough...assessment." There was a twinkle of laughter in his eye.

"You didn't hesitate, you offered yourself to me freely and that's not something many would do, I suppose. Most people...don't like others seeing their true natures. That's something that - well, apparently - your palm can't hide."

"I hide little from you, my lady. But in this case, though I know _of_ it, I must profess my ignorance concerning this...custom." I giggled.

"Maybe you wouldn't have been so willing, had you known I could see right into your soul," I winked jokingly, but his eyes simply _smouldered_ with a dark, cobalt fire that made me second guess myself.

"I...doubt that...my lady." There was a pregnant pause.

"This...'custom' isn't really a custom, I don't think," I started uncertainly. The sudden change of mood had taken me by surprise. What was more surprising, perhaps, was that I didn't know how to deal with it. "It's just...like tea leaves or entrails - though not as messy - and just...something I like to do...sometimes," I ended lamely. I looked back up at him to see that easy, warm smile back on his lips.

"In truth I would be surprised if there was a thing you could not do, my lady," I didn't know if he was talking about my new found role as fortune teller, doler-outer of immature advice or my rekindled love of dancing, but grinned anyway.

"Oh, _well_," I started, feeling the familiar bravado and disregard for 'atmosphere' flood back happily, "I'm _crap_ at sewing and...well, anything particularly domestic. Couldn't cook or shoot to save my life, either. Actually, I can whip up a _mean _rhubarb pie but other than that let's just say I'd make a _terrible_ housewife. Oh, and my _singing_! Well, if we're ever in a tight spot remind me to demonstrate and I'll send our enemies running for the hills." The breezy conversation flooded back, and I clung onto the more familiar role of entertainer. "In fact, come to think of it, fighting's the only real thing I've ever been very good at." It was true. I was intelligent, but hardly a born academic. Fighting was something that seemed to come as naturally as breathing, and I never felt as complete, as _whole_ as with a sword in my hand. I smiled again, somehow unable to take the manic expression from my face as I looked at him. I didn't think he'd be that interested in the other list of things I _was _particularly good at. It was short, very specific, and not fit for polite company. The cooking didn't matter so much, I thought absently, as he was a good enough cook for the both of us, just as I was talkative enough for a dozen others besides him. Casavir shook his head, still with a good-humoured light in his eyes as his brain caught up with his ears.

"Wait, wait, you can't _shoot_? I thought you said your father was a tracker and marksman?" I nodded, almost breaking out in laughter. How I loved Sal's special brew. But that wasn't just it. I felt bubbly, and alive, and...just _happy_.

"That's right. He didn't get it either. He kept trying and _trying_ to make me understand the basic principles of marksmanship but...just didn't work. I knew what to do, I knew exactly where to shoot and _how _to, but I couldn't...actually..._do_ it. Didn't feel right. Still, he kept trying, and when he wasn't teaching me a thousand other things he'd learnt in his time he was flicking at the side of my head to make me concentrate. Must have been a nightmare for him."

"For him? Didn't you mind being forced to learn it?"

"Well _yes_, at the time, but now I guess...it was all for my own good, you know? All of it was..." I remembered my fury at learning how much was hidden from me, but with hindsight would it have done me any good to know? Or would I just have felt like more of a burden? He had no choice but to take me in – there was no one else that would have. Every time he looked at me I must have been a reminder of everything he had lost. But in his own, special way he had loved me, just as I loved him in the completely unconditional, irrational way children did. I wondered where he was now. "Well anyway, the bow clearly didn't work out, and my magic came, went, and acted like hiccups. But I still knew I wanted to be a fighter, an adventurer. Too many storybooks, you see." He still had that half-smile, endearing in its earnestness, as he listened to me, leaning his elbows on his knees and cradling his head lazily in one palm.

"_So_, I went to Georg – the leader of the militia – and told him I wanted to join up. I was nine, maybe ten at the time, and of course he thought it was a _joke_, so he laughed and said..." I let my voice become gruffer and my face took on the too-serious stare of the sword master, earning a wider smile from the man in front of me, "'Well, Evie, you can't shoot for shit, so let's see if you can swing a sword.' He was joking too, of course, but let me try it anyway, and even though I could barely lift it – it was taller than I was, at the time – something about it just felt...well, right. And so, I begged Daeghun for one, and eventually he gave in. By the next summer I was the proud owner of my first longsword. I practised every chance I got, with everyone I could find. I wanted to be the best, and I think he realised it wasn't just a childish phase because he began to teach me what he knew, and so did Georg. When I came of age he let me join the militia, I became the best sword arm there, and...here I am now." I thought of spreading my arms to demonstrate the fact that I continued to exist moment by moment, but didn't trust myself to stay upright. The back of my head felt like it had been stuffed full of cotton wool when I wasn't looking.

"It isn't the same blade, is it?"

"Oh no, they've changed and grown as I have, but they've always been the same sort. Just small enough to hold with one hand, but with a great weight to them. Sort of like yours. This one...well, the one I have now...it's special, I think. Had it for years now. Of course it's been enchanted and whatnot, but it's the same blade I got my first real kill with."

I'd never forget that day. Before I'd had nothing but deer and the odd Lizardman to deal with, but that day I knew the exhilaration of killing another human. It wasn't a good feeling, just...a strong one. Where the only sound was the blood pumping through my ears, laced with adrenaline. That dryness in my throat, the way my stomach plummeted and my lungs felt deeper than ever... The memory came rushing back. He'd gotten a little too close, that one. Just another merchant travelling through, I heard later. He was a good twenty years my senior, but had still insisted on propositioning me relentlessly at that harvest festival in the village of Greenhill. I told him a thousand times I wasn't interested, being just under fifteen years of age and having had my eye on the young blacksmith's son for a while then, but apparently that wasn't a good enough answer for him. As I made my way through the marshland to get back to West Harbour, he'd followed me, and even after I'd told him in no uncertain terms to leave me the hells alone he'd forced himself on me. Or at least tried to. I'd have been a fool to travel through the mere without my sword, and as I saw the look of horror on his face as the light in his eyes died, I knew what I'd done. It wasn't the attempted rape that shook me so, rather the fact that I'd had the power to stop it. I hadn't meant to kill him, but he'd left me with little choice. I remembered heaving his body off of me, my clothes drenched in his blood, _tasting_ the feeling in my veins as I fled home. Those few seconds where I didn't know what to do was what really filled me with terror. I never wanted to feel so powerless again. It got easier, after that. With every bandit, every attacker I cut down I learned to stop thinking and just do it. It was they or I in the end, and I didn't plan to die any time soon.

"Does it have a name?" He asked, breaking my reverie.

"Huh?" I replied eloquently before I registered his meaning.

"Your...your sword. Do you name it? When mine was given to me it had none, and I never really considered giving it one. I...was just wondering if there is something you call _your_ sword by?"

"No...I used to name them, but...well, not anymore. I guess they've been replaced or broken too many times. It used to make me feel closer to the weapon - to give it a name - but then...it sort of hurt when it was abandoned through necessity, or was broken, or...was just replaced. I started to care about them as if they were more than just blades, like they made some difference to my skill. They do, in a way, but in the end a sword's a sword, and unless it's pretty special it's hardly alive. I guess when you name something it becomes...too real to let go of, when it's time." It was gloomy, but true enough. My current weapon was more like an extension of myself anyway, rather than another of those legendary weapons of heroes, with legends all of their own. It was easier if I thought of it in that way. I looked up and his face had changed entirely. There was a far-off, pained look where there was once laughter. "Are you ok?" His eyes met mine again and he smiled weakly, some of the cheer returning.

"Yes, I'm sorry. Just...remembered something...unrelated. From a long time ago." His tone was shut-off now, but I wouldn't let him get away from me that easily.

"Want to talk about it?" He shook his head.

"No, it's nothing, really. Just...youthful ignorance, that sort of thing." I grinned and raised my glass.

"I'll drink to that." He smiled at me and the man was back again, knocking his glass with mine before finishing it off. I didn't know how long I sat there talking to him about everything and nothing, but as the fire died down I noticed there was almost no one left around.

I wasn't ready to let him go, still apprehensive that he'd return the next day and be the cool, detached paladin I knew far too little about. I had to know more, now. I couldn't stand the fact that I still had almost no idea who he was, while I spilled everything I could onto his lap on every occasion. I wanted to know about his past, his family, his first love, everything. With any other I'd have given up and decided it wasn't worth it, but with him something told me it most certainly was. And besides, I wasn't after him for a lover, I was just...curious. There was something hidden behind those beautiful stormy eyes that was just starting to emerge, and as much as I didn't want to let it go, the moon was getting lower, and even I was starting to feel tired.

He took my hand to help me up and we began strolling back to the inn where my room was. Veedle had promised me something special that he'd had in mind since he'd first seen me, apparently. I dreaded to think what it would be like but didn't much care as long as there was a warm bed waiting.

I was barely watching where I was going, so captivated was I by the relatively trivial words we exchanged as we walked back, and it was no real surprise that I didn't see the foot long rock protruding dangerously from the ground, no doubt a piece of the old walls that hadn't been cleared away. As the ground grew nearer and my arms flailed out wildly I thought how stupid it was of me to have tripped, even if it was in front of one of the few people I could count on not to laugh _at _me but _with _me. But the ground never came, and instead I found myself resting against something very solid and very warm before I realised he had caught me halfway. I giggled idiotically as he helped me find my footing again, and as I mumbled a thank you, still with a girlish grin on my face, I noticed he was smirking amusedly too.

I opened my mouth to ask him what exactly he found so funny, but found I couldn't say anything at all as I looked at him. The smile vanished, and slowly I became aware that I was still leaning on him, and his arms were still very much around me. His face was in shadow, so I could make out barely anything but the two pinpoints of light that shone in his eyes as they stared _through_ mine and right into my soul.

My heart gave a long, hard _thump_.

And then, as soon as it started, the moment was over, and we moved apart, his lips moving to say something but no words coming out. I quickly laughed to disperse the heavy mood that had descended so suddenly, though I didn't feel much like laughing at all if I was entirely honest with myself, and reeled off something about my own head falling off next if he wasn't there to stop it.

As we continued along the beaten, grassy pathways through the outer court I noticed fondly that my hand was still held gently in his. Blissfully, it wasn't sweaty, or too tight, or uncomfortable, it was just..._nice_. Somehow, between there and the time we let go, his fingers had threaded through mine. There was something so perfect, so warm, so inviting in that small contact. I never wanted to let go.

In front of the inn, it was like the very first time a boy had asked to take me out, and we waited on the bridge outside my house for a few minutes as he stammered through a hideously clumsy goodbye. But now there was little of the characteristic awkwardness that accompanied these scenes, because after all we were just friends, which was at least more than mere companions. He opened his mouth to bid me farewell, still a little mirthful from the whiskey I'd sneaked into his drink, but something – probably more of the whiskey – made me tiptoe up and plant a soft, chaste kiss on the surprisingly smooth skin below his high cheekbone, in an echo of my thanks to him so long ago for the ritual flask that still had a place at my belt next to my sword when we left the Keep's safety. This time, though, I admitted it wasn't purely out of interest as to his reaction. His mouth was slightly ajar when I looked back up at him, but his eyes were still as sparkling as a moment before.

"Goodnight, Casavir." I said, feeling the pain in my cheeks from smiling too much but not caring.

"I...goodnight, my lady." There was a hesitation in his voice that hadn't been there when I spoke with him before, and I hoped I hadn't just thrown a cup of cold sobriety into his face. He inclined his head politely, but there was still a faint smile on his lips that was just as good as a _real_ response before he left. I stood staring at him walking away until he turned the corner to the Keep and tried to stop myself from grinning but found I couldn't. I hadn't wanted that night to end. It was like being back at home again, and for the first time the thought that home didn't exist anymore didn't send me into a spiral of depression. Instead, I realised that it did exist, and I was there. Practically everyone I cared about that was still alive was right here, so what more could I ask for? I trudged up the stairs to my room, noticing the dizziness wearing off with the alcohol as I pushed open the door and leaned against it until it shut. For the first time in so long I was...happy? Well, I'd been happy before on this journey, but not like this. Now there wasn't a single grey thought clouding my sky. I knew very well that many more people would die before this was over, one of them probably me, but didn't much care. For now, it was just dancing, and wine, and...

I dropped the robe I'd been holding as my mind drifted back to Casavir and my eyes flew open. I tried to stop the train of thought before it got any further, but couldn't. He was a soldier, a friend, a _Paladin_, I couldn't...he wouldn't...it didn't make _sense_, I...

A single thought replaced the others, drifting in front of my vision – '_oh dear...'_

That _certainly_ wasn't supposed to happen.

A.N. Hope you liked that ;) Just like to say that although I do write for the fun of it, feedback is always nice. And because of the nifty little stats thing I saw that although chapter 13 had over 200 hits, only one person said anything about it :) Thank you for reading, and thank you for telling me what you think. I write for myself, but I also write for you guys, and it's nice to know that it's being enjoyed by someone other than me!

Chapter fifteen on the way soon! And things are heating up...


	15. Chapter 15

**A.N.** This is far too late. I'm sorry! Sickness, internet, work, all of the above are to blame for why this chapter was kept from you guys for so long. Wish I could say the next will be up soon but I'm afraid I'm going away for a while, so it'll be a few weeks at least :( Sorry.

**Chapter Fifteen**

Sunlight streamed in merrily through the far too thin curtains and heralded the rise of another glorious day. The aching in my thighs I normally felt after a night of dancing wasn't there. Another fringe benefit of months of non-stop combat and endless sparring. I couldn't have drunk _that_ much the night before, I reasoned, because when I curled my back into an upright position the pounding I expected in my head and the tiny, vicious pit of nausea in my stomach were also absent. That, and I remembered every last detail.

Without the drink to fuel my audacity, my cheeks glowed red. Would he remember, I wondered? Would he be the same person that had laughed with me, or would he avoid my eyes and slip back into the old, icy persona he presented to others? The thought of the latter brought the nausea rushing forward with full intensity, and I hunched my shoulders over, bowing my head and forcing my eyes closed to try and banish it.

I didn't know why the thought frightened me so much. I guess I just wanted everyone else to see him as I did, but then that wasn't the truth either. Because if that was the case, all the times I glimpsed the man beneath the armour wouldn't mean as much. Every time I got him to speak to me as Evelyn and not his Captain...a tiny little thrill ignited inside of me. One I was scared of, but wasn't willing to let go either.

'_I should have kissed him'_.

The thought took me by surprise. Not because of its content but because of its sincerity. I was only a woman, after all, and he was only an incredibly charming, devastatingly handsome man. Of _course_ it wasn't the first time I'd wondered idly what it would be like, but it _was _the first time I'd seriously entertained the notion.

I _should_ have kissed him. Not like you'd kiss your brother or a dear friend, but a _real_ kiss. Then maybe I'd understand that strange fascination I had with him. Then maybe I'd be able to sort out how I felt in my own mind. Palmistry was fun, but kissing was better. It was easier, as well, to understand someone. To understand how, if at all, they would fit into my life. I should have kissed him last night, just a peck on those angular, upturned lips of his would tell me everything I needed to know. If I could have done that I'd have known immediately what it was I felt. Perhaps there would have been fireworks, or perhaps just...nothing at all. If it _was_ nothing, _then_ I could blame it on the liquor instead of my insufferable curiosity and the two of us could forget about it entirely. Or at least we could try. Now I'd never know, because I'd never be given such an opportunity again. I swung my bare legs over the side of the bed and pushed such thoughts to one side, a dull feeling rising up that it would be a long, _long _day.

-+-+-+-

I'd originally entered the Keep with the sole intention of finding Lisbeth, as I needed to spend time with her before she was taken away from me again. The night before I had watched her with such joy, such pride, and also such sadness that in a few days she and many of the other civilians would be taken to Neverwinter to wait out the war in relative safety as the threat drew ever closer to our front door. Technically, where she was going was an orphanage, but I'd made it abundantly clear that I regarded her as family. It would pain me to see her go, but it had to be done. I'd given a great deal of gold to ensure she was taken care of properly, and so that she knew I was still trying to look out for her even if I couldn't always be there. I'd never forgive myself if something happened to her after everything I'd already failed to prevent.

I never got to her room, though. As soon as I passed through the front doors, giving a knowing smile to the two groggy looking guards that flanked it, Kana accosted me and began to present a long, painful list of Things-That-Required-My-Immediate-And-Undivided-Captainly-Attention in a deep, demanding, ice-cold voice that practically radiated disapproval, almost certainly at last night's _activities_.

"...and then of course there is The Situation to the south we discussed last week - you remember, I presume? - which Bishop should be reporting on when he returns this morning, as is expected. You should speak to him for a full report, and there is also the matter of The Mission that Aldannon has no doubt informed you of already. And of course I must draw your attention to the recruitment of a new Lieutenant, who also arrived this morning. I believe she is now questioning some of your Companions as to the whereabouts of her previous Superior, having apparently been recommended for the position by him as well as yourself, Captain. As well as this..." She was one of the few people I knew that could make capitalisation audible. She spoke like there was a hand shoved up the back of her gleaming breastplate manipulating her jaw, and there was a glassy quality to her eyes that made it seem as if she were not looking at me at all, and was instead reading invisible words of protocol printed in the air in front of her face. At least I'd seen _Nevalle _crack a smile before…

"Hey, Evelyn!" Neeshka's ever cheerful voice broke through the brewing storm like a ray of sunlight and her tail practically bounced as she jogged over to me, taking in Kana, my desperate expression, and the door on the far side of the room leading deeper into the Keep. "Just the woman I was looking for! You're needed. Right now, in fact." I shrugged helplessly at a stern Kana and was led out of the main entrance hall and towards the library side of the Keep, a sour, bemused look following me.

"Thanks..." I mumbled, grinning, as we rounded a corner into what had become the audience chamber. She replied with a wink and slipped out the other side of the room. Recalling my original purpose, I made for the third way out of this room that led towards the east wing where most people had rooms either by themselves or in the dormitories. Lisbeth would be up by now, as I'd ensured she hadn't stayed up too late the night before. Whether she was in her room or not was another matter altogether although it wasn't like I had much better to do what with Aldannon still scrying for our next destination...

"My lady!" The voice startled me out of what was still an early-morning haze and I looked up to see a large, grinning white face looming up in front of me.

"Gah!" I exclaimed before I collected myself. Oh, Gods, it was...it was...

"My lady, it is I..." Yes, him. His name...I fought to remember it but it refused to come forward. "Daerred Louis Percy Oscar Wimmington...er...the third."

"Oh," I said, seeming rather incapable of forming more than single syllables with his head floating towards me as if it were detached from his gangly body. I took a step backwards to widen the ever closing distance between us. He took a step closer. "Hi."

"Forgive me for not being present at last night's festivities. I yearned to behold your lovely visage in the moonlight and share a dance with my lady, yet regretfully found myself needed elsewhere." I sincerely doubted the latter statement was even close to the truth, but didn't press it any further. I noticed with some amusement that he wasn't wearing anything on his lips, for when he smiled both his lips and his face were so white with powder that it was hard to tell he'd moved at all.

"Yes, well, I--"

"But fear not! For I have arrived this fine morrow and am, as always, eager for your divine company." Considering I'd met him exactly twice before I couldn't imagine he was _that_ eager, but he surely seemed to have convinced _himself_, at least...

"Um--"

"And now, my lady, perhaps you would like to accompany me to a more _private_ setting...?" His eyebrows waggled at me in a frightening manner as he took another step closer and grasped my hand in his. It was sweaty, and bony, and I yanked mine back immediately.

"_Perhaps_ not!" I replied in outrage. Truth be told the invitation wasn't terribly shocking, even if it did come from such a specimen, and normally I'd have a scathing put-down dancing on the tip of my tongue, but his hand squeezing mine uncomfortably had reminded me of another altogether, and for some stupid reason I felt a blush creeping up my neck that had nothing whatsoever to do with the fool in front of me...

"Oh! Forgive my abruptness, my dearest lady! Nothing sordid, I assure you! I simply desired to speak to you of your countless virtues in a setting where we cannot be disturbed! But of course, I should have known that such a...er...delicate flower as your lovely virtuous self would never accept a blemish on her unblemished virtue! And for this your light shines even _lighter_ to these unworthy eyes! Your visage is perfection to my...soul! Your hair the colour of...of...a...sunset? Yes! Yes! A sunset! And...and your bosom! Um...um..." My eyebrows shot up in surprise at this last comment and I glanced down to the bosom in question, rather uninspiring in two layers of constricting fabric. "Oh! I am moved to _song!_"

"Oh Gods n--" A low, resounding _noise_ emanated from his throat. He produced a lute from nowhere and began to strum on it like a matron beating a child. The sound hollering out of his mouth wavered in pitch until it was more of a squeal, and I found myself backing away in actual fright. If I concentrated I could almost hear poetry being butchered over the bellowing.

I watched in fascination as a too-long curl fell from the pile on his head and was suspended in mid-air from the force of his voice. He inhaled sharply after the last 'note' and the lock was sucked straight into his throat. His round, watery eyes flew open in surprise and he coughed it out, reminding me of those ugly, skinny cats with more pride than sense who spent most of the time licking their own fur and hacking it up afterwards all over the furniture of their unfortunate owner. He started the wailing again, and now there was nothing for it. I couldn't injure him within my own Keep, I couldn't shout at him for fear he wouldn't even hear me over his own nasal voice. And so I did what I always did in situations like this. I turned and ran.

"My...my lady!" I tore wildly through a corridor, hearing his flat, curled, embroidered slippers slapping like dead fish on the stone floor behind me. "My love! My spring blossom! My cherry pie!" He wheezed out as he followed, breath quickly escaping him in his struggle to keep up with my pace, "Let me...demonstrate to you...the adoring _depth..._of my loving..._adoration..._for your...lovely self!"

"Go away!" I shouted behind me. Either he didn't hear or he _chose_ not to, for he kept coming. I rounded a corner at speed and took in the row of identical looking doors that lined the hallway before it led outside again. Quickly I skidded to the third and slipped inside, stopping to shut and bolt it firmly as I forced my breathing to calm and my body to be still.

"My lady?" The voice was just behind me, and for a tiny, horrifying moment I wondered if the bard didn't have some demonic power of teleportation. But no, the voice was different. It was smooth, deeper, and a whole lot more inviting. I turned my body in place, ever so quietly, and looked up at the bemused, still face of Casavir.

He was so close I could feel the hot breath on my face as he spoke.

"Are you alri--" I swiftly pressed two fingers to his lips and leant my ear back against the door until I heard Daerred running past, still calling for me lovingly. I turned my head back to him to see a strange mix of confusion and mirth written on his face.

'_What is _he_ doing here?'_ was my first thought. That was before I tore my eyes away from the oceanic depths of his to see the symbol of Tyr emblazoned on a huge, round shield propped up on an alter. This was one of the makeshift chapels that had been built at the last moment, and of course, being a loyal servant, he'd be here for his morning devotions. The real question was why _I_ was here.

The mirth was still there, and I wanted to smile in response to how unguarded he let himself be around me compared to when I first met him. Even if he still never called me by name. But I didn't smile yet...because I didn't really want to smile. I felt the surprising softness of his lips beneath my fingers and I was filled with a sudden, burning desire to hurl caution out the window and kiss him instead. Of _course_ it was a bad idea, and I knew I wouldn't actually do it, but that didn't stop me from wanting to. It would change everything, and I liked him how he was. I wanted him to stay that way. Only...I didn't. Because we couldn't stay how we were. _Why_ couldn't I think of him as just another companion anymore? Why couldn't it just be that simple? I'd caught a glimpse of who he was, of everything he wouldn't let anyone else see, and I desperately wanted more. Was this attraction or curiosity? I still wanted to kiss him. But how would he take it? I didn't know, and I wasn't sure I wanted that on my hands.

This was ridiculous. I could know most people within a matter of minutes, but I still didn't know _him_. And in nineteen years I still didn't know myself. I didn't know what I wanted, or how to go about getting it, or if I'd even _want_ it once it was mine.

Reluctantly, I lowered my hand and bit my lip.

"I think he's gone."

"Who…who is 'he'?" He asked quietly, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. I grinned back suddenly.

"That bard. You know, the one I keep sending off on those stupid missions. The one that _keeps coming back," _I replied in secretive tone, earning a sparkle of amusement from his eyes as his stance relaxed.

"Why is he after you? Perhaps he actually _enjoyed_ combat against the vicious, legendary privy monster you sent him after _last_ time?"

"Oh I don't _know_, probably got the stupid idea in his head that I'm his one true love or some such nonsense. I…I think he's trying to court me. It's terrifying." He chuckled, low and velvety, a smile spreading over his lips that seemed, to me, perfectly formed, making his broad cheekbones all the more noticeable. There was the slightest of shadows defining his jaw line that told me he hadn't yet shaved. A small, rebellious part of me hoped he wouldn't.

He still hadn't moved. I reasoned that he must have been on his way out when I came in, and as such I was probably in the way. The bidding of my body overrode that of my mind, and my hand reached forward to touch his. I suppressed a shiver at the contact and told myself that the spark of electricity I'd felt flying across that small gulf was just the static in the air…His eyes flicked down, then back up to mine, and he opened his still-smiling mouth to speak.

"Captain Ashcroft?" The use of my name would have been a promising start, had it come from _him_. Instead he furrowed his brow at the call - a woman's - from outside.

'_Go _away' I projected the thought angrily at the world at large. All I wanted, all I was asking for, was a matter of _minutes_ alone with one of my companions. It didn't seem like such an impossible request, and yet everyone else seemed to make it their personal mission _not_ to allow it. '_Just leave me alone, everyone and everything! Just...bugger off to the hell of your choice and give me some _space

"Captain Ashcroft?" She was outside the door. Three brisk, orderly knocks sounded directly behind my head. It couldn't be Kana – Kana rapped on doors like a woodpecker and somehow always knew when I was just hiding inside. I didn't know _who _it was, and I didn't much care. But, by the looks of it Casavir's damnable politeness wouldn't let me ignore her and have my way. He stepped back, and my hand dropped from his. Scowling, I turned and wrenched open the door.

She was tall, and blonde, and pretty, and an _interruption_.

"Captain Ashcroft. I thought I saw you head in this direction." Her eyes slid neatly over my shoulder and she stepped past me, her face lighting up. "And Casavir! Hello, Sir!" The slight smile on his face hadn't moved, but something about it had changed. I couldn't pinpoint what, and looking at her delighted expression I wasn't sure I wanted to know...

"Katriona. It is good to see you well."

"And _you_, Sir! How have the travels been?"

"Fairly successful, as you can see. But of course most of that is due to the efforts of our Captain." He looked at me again, but I was still bitterly mulling over the fact that he didn't seem to have any trouble saying _her_ name at all...

"Yes, of course." She turned to me, taking a subtle step back so she was at his side. Her smile was friendly as she gestured at the Keep at large. "From such humble beginnings to..._this_. You must be so pleased, Captain."

"I would be if I'd intended any of it. But yes, the fates have been kind," I replied neutrally.

"So it would seem." There was a silence that seemed to widen the gap between where they and I stood.

"You were looking for me?" I asked suddenly as she opened her mouth and looked to Casavir to say something.

"Why...yes, as a matter of fact."

I was jealous, and I wasn't entirely sure why. Sure, I was selfish in that I didn't like _real_ competition in any sense of the word, but that wasn't quite the case here. I knew I was a better fighter than her, and I wouldn't have traded places with her for anything, but...something still made me tense, made my fists clench involuntarily as she spoke to him. Most people were a lot more selfish than they let on to anybody, let alone themselves, and I saw a glint in her eye as she turned to me that confirmed my suspicions. So, that was it. She didn't like people sniffing around her superior. Well, that was fine with me, and certainly understandable, as long as she kept it to herself. Casavir was oblivious, and it was better that way. He seemed like a man that still held faith in the good natures of woman, and I didn't want to be the one to inform him that we were all vicious, territorial harpies who could tear each other to shreds with _looks_ as most men stood there entirely unaware.

"Khelgar's looking for you as well," Katriona said in response, "Actually, you know, I believe he's outside right now." The implication was clear and I grit my teeth in an unpleasant smile.

"Any idea what he wants?"

"Sadly, no. I believe it's for your ears alone."

"Well I'd hardly expect him to keep a secret. Why don't you go and find out what it is? You're a _lieutenant_ after all, you deserve to know any battle plans."

"Yes, _Captain_, but I really must insist I wouldn't feel right hearing orders for your ears only." Oh, so _this_ was how it was going to be?

"But I insist. I _trust_ you enough, Katriona."

She looked at me squarely, the challenge plain to see. Though now I wasn't even sure what we were playing for...

"I hear him now, you're right," said Casavir suddenly. Katriona's smile curved up a little until she was practically beaming at him.

"E-vie!" a booming voice questioned the entire Keep and most of the surrounding villages…

"You'd better see what he wants," she said pointedly, all thoughts of subtlety flying out the window. A little part of me still managed to feel triumphant as I politely bid them goodbye, safe in the knowledge that if Casavir said 'fetch' she'd probably break out into a run. I'd marked the way she hung on his every word and could barely summon up the courage to tear her eyes from him even back in the Well. He couldn't possibly want someone like her. It wouldn't make sense, if I knew him at all.

The utter pettiness of this thought wasn't altogether surprising, but I still had the good grace to rebuke myself for it. She _was _a good lieutenant. I'd been informed at length of her _many_ virtues by Casavir back when we first met. Yes, she'd turn out to be a worthy addition to our cause, just...perhaps not the kind I wanted in my little army. I was a jealous woman, after all.

"Yes, Khelgar?" I asked loudly, cutting off another shout of my name as he came into view.

"Aha, there you are, lass. Was lookin' for you."

"I heard. What's wrong?" I asked, switching swiftly to business mode as I walked back to the central Keep beside him.

"The wizard's finally pinpointed the spot we been looking for. Jerro's Haven."

"Really?" At least I was being interrupted for a purpose. "Oh _Gods_ that's good news...finally we can make some actual progress..." I hated just sitting on my hands and waiting for things to happen as the world collapsed around me. This way, at least, we could get something _done_... "Did he say where? How soon can we be there?"

"A day's travel north, an' that's all I got. Aldannon said we be needin' all _sorts_a weird magical things t' get there but the skinny little elf thinks otherwise."

"You're trusting Sand, now?" I asked in amusement.

"T'ain't _that_," he replied, looking offended, "Just ain't in a mood to ferret out no lich dust nor dragon eggs. Seems things be finally goin' our way for once!"

"Aye, feels like it..." I mumbled, still fighting the urge to turn right back round and pull rank on my newest lieutenant. I _would_ be an adult about _this_ if nothing else.

"Y'okay, lass? Tell th' truth I'm surprised yer up at all, given last night's drinking. Hells, if it were up to me I'd still be passed out in the courtyard but then what else is new, eh?"

"I'm fine, Khelgar, just a little concerned about your opinion of my constitution." I said with a smirk. "I could probably drink you under the table, Ironfist." He gave me a long, bemused look before barking out a laugh.

"Y'know I respect you an all, Evie, but yer completely _daft_ at times. But then I guess most humans are. 'Specially the men, if you get me drift," he finished meaningfully. I raised an eyebrow to beckon an elaboration, but none was forthcoming. "Guess you'll want to be heading out straight away, right?"

"Yes. We've lost a lot of time already and can't let go of any more. I'll grab the others from the library and training grounds, and while you're here can you get Casavir and tell him to be ready to leave in an hour? I'll see to the others." I thought that last order was a demonstration of _remarkable_ self control on my part.

-+-+-+-

A drop of blood seemed such a simple sacrifice. Almost too easy, considering everything we'd been through to reach this point. Thoughtfully, I rubbed the acid burns on my arms, tiny little pinpricks of pain that had earned our passage through Jerro's Haven. It had turned out to be a dry, desolate wasteland of a place, with half-ruined buildings overgrown with sun-dried foliage and, apparently, an endless supply of fire elementals. Still, we were only outside, and no doubt behind the great black door looming up before us was the place we were after. The real Haven. There, we would find all the answers. We _had_ to.

But first, to enter, a sacrifice was needed. Shandra paled the moment the legendary 'pint of blood for entry' was mentioned, and my heart wrenched as I remembered how I didn't just _want_ her here, we _needed_ her. She was the chosen one, the only person that could put an end to this, and I'd back her up all the way. In another place, in another time, we would have been nothing more than drinking buddies and close friends. As it was, however, I'd taken her from her home and thrown her head first into a world she shouldn't have had to deal with. It wasn't fair on her, but then very little _was_ fair in this world.

"Such an occasion!" A voice near my waist piped up with a cheer that seemed utterly insatiable. "The weary heroes of Crossroad Keep arrive at their destination at last! Braving whate'er trials are set before them they march bravely onwards! Heavens, I am moved to _song_!"

"Oh for the love of Sune, _no_." I hissed, bringing two fingers up to pinch the bridge of my nose. It had been an exhausting day, and those damn trials had stomped right on my last nerve. The chessboard rose up in my mind again, and I was _sure_ that something, somewhere was getting a real kick out of my frustration. An unmistakable growl to my left hushed Grobnar's tiny voice for good and I looked up to see Bishop scowling at the golem in front of us.

He'd come back that morning, right on time, and with a new scar just above his eyebrow. I didn't ask how he got it. I never did. Curiosity and him didn't mix so well. I'd learned that soon enough. As if he could read my thoughts - which wouldn't have surprised me in the slightest - his mahogany eyes caught mine, and I cursed the fact that I looked away as if I should have been embarrassed.

Casavir stood on my other side, and had been unusually quiet, even for him, as we journeyed from the Keep. The night of celebration had done everyone some good, but it didn't take away the mission we had, or the shadows creeping in from the mere...

I slid my hand onto Shandra's shoulder to get my mind back to the current, more important situation and her head turned ever so slightly, eyes locking with mine. She was scared. I could see it written on her face clear as day. And it wasn't of cutting herself to donate a drop of blood to our cause, it was of everything else. She was the last of her line, and the real heroine in this case. I squeezed her shoulder and she closed her eyes gratefully. Once that single drop hit the pedestal it would start for real. And I didn't know when it would stop.

"Alright." She said to the towering figure in front of her. I'd always hated golems, and this one was no better. Staring into those cold, hard eyes that held not a scrap of life, hearing them speak and reason like just another race...it was unnatural to say the least. Shandra's uneasy gaze told me she felt the same. "Watch my back in case it summons something nasty..." Her voice was light enough, but the fear was real. I nodded.

"Always." I meant it, too, and she must have seen it for she smiled thankfully. Facing forward, she took a step and slowly brought the knife up to her palm. My stomach lurched with apprehension, but I couldn't think why. But then my instincts were never wrong...

Suddenly I opened my mouth to shout something, anything that would make the world freeze until I could figure out what was wrong. I had to stop her, or something terrible would happen. I didn't know what, I didn't know how, and I didn't know why, I just..._knew_.

And then, before a single syllable had left my lips, there was a flash of light. I saw that single drop crown as it touched the pedestal, and she was gone. Vanished.

There was a long, heavy moment. The group looked around, dumbfounded, and no one spoke. My mouth was still open, and I breathed a single word out through teeth clenched in tension.

"Shit!"

-+-+-+-

There were a lot of us. The Captain had taken all of our group that had offered to come, and after Shandra's disappearance it was only natural that we split up and followed the two separate paths that would eventually meet in the middle to save time. Yes, it was necessary, and I told myself that the reason she didn't take me with her was because she could trust me to lead the other group. And the reason she _had_ taken Bishop was because there were only so many close-range fighters to go around. Yes, it made sense, but that didn't make it any easier to deal with. Behind me Neeshka's eyes darted around for any traps that might have barred our way, while Sand and Khelgar followed my lead, gripping their weapons. The way her hand had clamped around her sword belied her apprehension, even if she tried to appear calm. And her eyes were bare with worry, just like they freely shone with whatever she seemed to be thinking at the time. When she was happy they sparkled with life, and she seemed even more beautiful. I wondered what would have happened had that moment not been interrupted...

I closed my eyes and forced myself to think of the present. She wouldn't let me protect her directly, and that was her choice, but the very least I could do was get the job she gave me done right. A demon and a devil, so far, and I hated to think what we'd run into next. Seeing Mephasm again was certainly strange, and her attitude towards him apparently hadn't changed in the slightest. Her teeth were on edge once more, and she spoke his name as if it were a creature slithering across her skin. He didn't rebuke her, though, or even question it. Neeshka's fists had clenched tightly shut, and with a word from the Captain so had her jaw. It wouldn't do to anger possibly our only ally in this hellish place, even if it took all of her self-control to speak civilly. I could certainly understand that. I had no love for such beasts, even were it not for my Paladin training. I sent up a silent prayer to Tyr that we would leave this place unscathed, though in my heart I thought it unlikely. Shandra's sudden disappearance had given an edge to her voice that made me want to stay by her side even more. She'd be reckless, as usual, but even more so due to concern. My gut twisted in apprehension as I immediately thought to the worst case scenario, and not for the first time I regretted not arguing against her decision for me to leave with the others. What angered me more than I let myself admit was that _he_ was there instead of I. Perhaps...perhaps I had been mistaken when I thought...

"Ugh! I smell...a Succubus!" Neeshka's voice, laced with the disgust that twisted her lips into a grimace, was what finally broke me out of the spiral of thought that always sent me lower and lower. A succubus...yes, that seemed right. The change in the atmosphere was almost, but not quite, imperceptible. There was a smell on the air, a sweet, musky aroma that worked with the faint red glow on the walls to give a thick, stifling quality to the corridor.

"A Succubus. Fantastic. As if all the other wingéd spawn of the hells weren't enough..." Sand's dry voice didn't hide the tinge of apprehension he felt. "Perhaps the _next_ time we enter a demon-caged labyrinth of death and despair we can check what exactly it is we're up against."

"Perhaps." I agreed absently, focussing instead on the path ahead. Footsteps were growing closer and I raised a hand, the small group halting immediately. They weren't footsteps, now that I thought about it. Feet didn't make that sort of noise, only hooves did…

"They're coming!" Neeshka hissed, already melding into the flickering shadows of this place as Sand began to whisper an incantation. Khelgar stood beside me and gave me a staunch nod, gripping the handle of his axe with the ever-present confidence I'd come to expect from the dwarf as the first of our enemies came into sight...

-+-+-+-

Blooden, with her short, spiky shock of copper hair, blood red lips and scrap of a dress, was a textbook Succubus, and I was instantly on my guard. I'd seen them before through my time with the Order, though none so powerful, and I knew there was nothing beautiful in the unearthly perfection of their forms. There was only evil that twisted the unnatural beauty into something sinister. Her yellow slitted eyes, ringed with dusky purple, flitted over us in amusement before turning back to Neeshka

"And I see, little one, that you have brought me some males to play with..." Her voice was deep and husky, and her large, grey-white batwings flexed as she spoke.

"You may wish to stand back..." I heard Sand's voice to my left as he stepped forward, his eyes transfixed on her body, "I am best equipped to deal with her charms, if this truly is a Succubus. Perhaps further investigation is necessary..." His fingers twitched lecherously, and there was a strange, far-off smile on his face. I took hold of his arm and yanked him back, snapping him out of the haze he'd let himself be dragged into. He looked at me in confusion before straightening his robes and staring levelly at the Succubus. I heard Neeshka subtly booting Khelgar in the leg and muttering for him to keep his damn mouth closed because his drool was starting to form a puddle at his feet. Blooden seemed to ignore them, though, and I felt a wave of icy apprehension dart through me as I steeled myself.

"Oh...my..." She took a step forward and cocked her head at me in interest. "What a..._specimen_ you are...you may provide an interesting diversion...yes, a male vessel for sure, thick with virtue and doubt..._so close to cracking until the guilt runs out..._" I realised with a shock that though I had heard the last part loud and clear, her lips hadn't moved at all. I felt her presence skimming over my mind and I forced it shut with difficulty. She giggled, and I felt her effortlessly pry it open again. The others didn't seem to notice, and were still watching with confusion the silent exchange.

'_Get away from me, demon,'_ I shot back, concentrating on making the thought as forceful as I could. She ran an ever so slightly pointed tongue over her top lip.

'_I'm sure this is more than you can bear, holy one, but try to relax...you will find submission _ever_ so pleasant...'_ I heard her giggle again, a sound which should have been pleasant but instead sent almost painful shivers through my spine. '_I wonder...did you come all this way _just_ for me...?'_

'_It was _not_ my choice, creature. Get _out_ of my mind. Whatever charms you think you have are utterly wasted on me._' I tried to throw another wall up but she sidestepped it like it wasn't even there. I prayed we would not have to fight her, as she was more powerful than any I'd encountered. The one that imprisoned her must have been more powerful still...

'_Oh...? Is that so? _I _don't think they are. _My_ charms, perhaps, but...if this voice...this form displeases you, my dear, virtuous one...perhaps taking another will stir that too-noble, too-hard heart of yours...'_ She closed her eyes and a hazy smile spread over her face, '_I see her now...yes...a pretty thing, no doubt...'_ Horror struck me as she changed before my eyes. A glance to the others revealed they couldn't see what I did, for they were still looking at the two of us in bemusement. Her hair grew longer and darker, falling in thick waves over her now freckled shoulders as her skin reddened from ashen grey to a rich, tanned peach colour. Her eyes changed from yellow, through green, until two piercing orbs of clear blue stared back at me amusedly, and her face morphed around them to another altogether. The dress remained, but her body had changed to the Captain's, complete with the thick, white scar that was now completely visible as it ran from her collarbone, between her breasts, to just below her navel where the dress collected. I didn't feel embarrassed looking at her, though, nor did I feel disrespectful, for this wasn't anyone I...cared about. This was…just…a _demon_.

'_Stop it,'_ I forced out. '_Mock me all you wish, but I will _not_ abide you mocking her.'_

'_Mocking?'_ Her voice was no longer hers, but I couldn't imagine the one I heard in my mind ever being so cold or so laced with evil intent._ 'You wound me with your words, Casavir...yes, I know of you. Your pain is on the very surface of that mind of yours, as is _She_...though much is buried deeper...'_

"Stop it!" I said out loud before I could stop myself. She giggled again and leaned on one hip, still in the form that was familiar and yet entirely foreign.

'_Oh...such _passionShe breathed in a hiss between her teeth and closed her eyes in ecstasy... '_You...dearest Paladin...you are wasted with her, and within your stifling temple's walls...'_ Her eyes opened again and she looked at me curiously. '_Though perhaps not...I sense she..._awakens_...something in you...with those _charms_ of her own...'_

'_Between her and _you_, creature, there is no comparison. Her qualities are none of yours, and yours are vile to me.'_ The satisfied smirk she gave me was so like another, and I felt anger rising up as she trailed a hand from her thigh up to her neck in a tantalising manner.

'_So...you pay particular attention to this one's..._qualities..._? Such sweet hypocrisy, Paladin, and that is why I enjoy you playthings so much...and why, no doubt, this one keeps you in her company.'_ The voice took on a cruel, sharp edge._ 'You are an _itch_ that I could take great joy in _scratching_, but perhaps later...I am certain you know what that feels like, don't you? Crawling, burrowing inside you, so difficult to keep in check...and keeping it beneath that polished heel of yours will not crush the temptation...'_ Fingers that didn't belong to her toyed with the straps of her dress. '_And just who is it, I find myself wondering, that inspires such...feeling within you...?'_

_'I will listen to no more of your lies,'_ I replied levelly, closing my eyes, '_Aid us, or be silent. If you insult my leader again the _last_ thing you shall see is my blade.'_

'_For every paladin that takes their vows...'_ She started in a cold, forceful tone as she savoured the moment, '_...a hundred fall. A _thousand_ fall. In this world, and _countless_ others. A tiresome thing when it finally happens and they destroy themselves with their new identity...but what makes _my_ life so sweet...my_ existence_ so...satisfying...it is those that teeter on the edge, that need only the slightest push...the slightest anger, jealously, desire..._lust_...the slightest _taste_ of what is forbidden...those that are so _close_ to giving in...'_ She threw her head back in laughter before twisting it back to me and speaking out loud in the same tone, startling the others. "Why don't you _tell_ your lovely friend...tell her about your struggles in silence...what it meant to you...for her to rescue you from the shadows of the Old...Owl...Well..."

"There is _nothing_ to say!" I replied out loud, suddenly furious. "You speak naught but lies, begging to the hells in the hopes that others are as _weak_ as you. You have spoken your peace, demoness, but I have no fear of words. You have no hold over me."

"Oh, no, no...I am done talking. The seed I have planted will take some time to grow, and that is enough for me..." Her eyes slipped to the right and she smiled again unpleasantly. "And here she is now..." her eyes widened and a grin crossed her face, "Well...I suppose that makes a lot more sense now that I _feel_ her as well as see her..." Her body slithered back into its true form, and she sent a sly glance in my direction.

'_An ambitious one, you are. But I sense she holds a place for you also...even if you_ are_ of a _lesser_ species...'_ I didn't have time to think over her meaning, as the Captain had indeed caught up with us. The favour of four was needed, and we had gained the help of one already, not including the devil at the beginning. The portal behind the Succubus now had three out of four beams of energy powering it, so only one more was needed.

I hoped our leader had more self-control than I.

-+-+-+-

Relief washed over me as I saw Casavir standing there. I knew sending him to lead the others was the best idea, and I'd divided the groups up with all the detachment of any _real_ Captain, but that didn't stop me from wanting to call him back, or from being worried that the best fighter in our group might not be able to handle himself. Bishop had given me another one of those _looks_ of his, which more than made up for the fact that he hadn't spoken a single word to me that wasn't directly related to what we were doing since he'd got back. A chill shot up my spine violently as his eyes had settled on mine for a long, uneasy moment, moving all the while to my side before he dragged his gaze to Casavir. I thought I'd seen the paladin tense ever so slightly, but with a nod and final glance at me he was gone, leading the others away. I hadn't the time to think of it now...not when Shandra was missing and I had far more _important_ things to hold my attention.

Grobnar, Elanee and Zhjaeve joined the others, while Bishop remained directly behind me as we entered another of these identical rooms housing demons and devils alike. I didn't know what to make of that. He was never far from my side during our travels, but he still treated me as though I was some funny little creature to be toyed with, and barely spoke a word to me that wasn't laced with innuendo, sarcasm or outright disdain. He was even worse when Casavir was there, and now as his eyes rested on the Paladin I felt him breathe a snicker before turning his attention to the demoness in the centre. Her gaze swept over us in amusement and finally landed on me.

"And so _you_ are their mistress, I trust?" I nodded, not seeing much of an alternative. "Then it is as it should be." She smiled dangerously and I felt myself tense.

"Worry not, sweetling, your..._friend_, here...he has earned you an audience with me." I glanced back to Casavir, who was unusually rigid, the hard, thin set of his lips almost resembling a snarl as he gripped the handle of his sword tight.

"She is a _thing_ that deals in lies and deceit." He whispered tersely. I wondered what had happened before I got here... "If you believe her, if you listen to a word she says, she will have your heart in her hands." I nodded quickly, ignoring Bishop's snort.

"Be that as it may, we still need another to open the portal...to free Shandra..." The Succubus giggled, and I suspected she was enjoying this infinitely more than anyone else here.

"Oh he's right, you know. Evelyn, is it? Don't look so shocked, dear, your name is hardly a secret to your companions..."

"Then you have me at an advantage, for I don't know who _you_ are."

"Me? Why, I am Blooden. Yes, the mistress in charge of the Breeding Grounds, arrangements, seductions, the chase, the catch...and of course the mating and subsequent slaying..." She cocked her head at me and her eyes danced with fire. "And yes, I have the power to trace heritage, bloodlines...all the way along the great barbed tree that divides us all...you included, sweetling. The lowly half-breed here, the bloodfly, the greatness of her line diluted beyond repair, was of _some_ interest to me, yes...and now you come along. Such a..._funny_ little creature, you are. What is your purpose...I wonder...?"

"What?" The question came out before I could stop it, but it certainly was warranted. I didn't have a clue what she was talking about, or if she was even still talking about me.

"Sweetling, you are not _that_ slow, surely? Or...can it be you do not know of what I speak...? But of course, you don't have the faintest idea...oh how _delightful!_ Well, _I_ won't be the one to tell, however much pleasure your reaction would give me. As well as those of your..._companions_..."

"Whatever it is, I'm sure I can continue to live my life quite happily without knowing." Of course I was curious, but I was also painfully conscious that we were running out of time. "Now can you help us or not?" She giggled again, and shrugged those perfect milky-white shoulders.

"Perhaps. Speak it, then, sweetling, and _do_ keep it interesting, won't you? You've clearly come here for some purpose..." She paused to examine her long, talon-like nails, "that might amuse me...for a while."

"You might find it _amusing_ to help me get to the laboratory. Your master has taken a dear friend of mine and I'm not leaving this place until I have her safe."

"So you are looking for the girl, are you? Poor, lost little thing, popped by here not too long ago," she said with a shrug.

"Where is she?"

"Now that I do not know. Blood powers this place. His as well as hers, and she may travel through it as he does."

"He?"

"Why yes, of course, the master of this place by your own admission. If you truly wish to find him then...yes, I _can_ help you. Whether or not I _will _is another story. Such _fun_ this has been that I won't make you kill a few more of my minions for my amusement. Instead...yes, I know what you can do for me...Naturally, I'll require more entertainment once you've left this place, so..."

She continued and my face fell. Another fetch and carry job. I was getting impatient, and something kept pricking at my mind to go faster, faster, faster, or everything would fall apart. Every single delay sent a shot of fear and adrenaline through my chest, pulling me forward, telling me to hurry things up. I clenched my fists and remembered to breathe.

-+-+-+-

I wondered what she'd done to the paladin to get him so pissed. Of course church men like him wanted nothing to do with demons, and Succubi, well, that must have been even _worse_. She probably made him remember he was actually a man, or got him to admit something he'd be too terrified to otherwise. I'd have congratulated her if I was in the mood to have my brain picked at and devoured whole in a haze of lust. The thought came to my mind that perhaps bedding a Succubus was only as mind-blowing as people said it was because they made you believe it to be so...

Evelyn glanced at me for a fleeting moment, and I don't know what I saw in her eyes. There was fear, yes, but anger also. Frustration. She kept gripping her sword tighter and shifting from foot to foot, not even realising she was doing it. So she was impatient, too. That was hardly surprising. I had little patience for dungeon crawls like this, and arguing with demons and devils instead of fighting them didn't seem to make much sense.

I felt another set of eyes on me as Evelyn turned away, and I shifted to glare directly back at the paladin. It almost made me laugh. I knew he hated it when I so much as looked at her – probably figured I'd corrupt his _lady_ with my gaze alone – and that was what goaded me on. Delusional, that's what he was. He seemed to think she was something she wasn't. Like she needed or wanted his protection as anything personal, like she was some kind of goddess to be worshipped and not free for the taking. Hells, at least I knew the truth of it. In time, he'd find out too, and what a surprise it would be when he realised she wasn't about to be drawn in by that honour and duty routine that no doubt had the court ladies swooning where they stood.

That's when I'd have my fun.

'_Confident, aren't you?'_ I almost flinched as the voice shot through my mind without so much as a warning. I turned to glare at the Succubus.

'_Back off. I won't play as nice as _him.' She didn't even look at me, and continued to speak to Evelyn as if none of us were even in the room.

'_Oh, dear, sweet little ranger, that's not what I want. What I see in you…now that is something _much_ more fascinating…'_ I _hated_ Succubi for this very reason. I'd never seen one powerful enough to do this, though…It didn't matter. Evelyn had her fleeting favour, that much I could see. She wouldn't do anything to me beyond toy with my mind a little. But…hells knew I'd had enough of that recently. '_Another male vessel, and yet there is little good in you that hasn't been blackened by your sins…but then I suspect you know that already, you with your soul so like a dagger, barely kept in its sheathe…_' I thought I saw her eyes slip to mine, burning with an amber fire, but she continued speaking as if nothing was happening. '_Whose back does that dagger seek, I wonder…?'_

'_You won't get a thing out of me, witch. I've got my fair share of demons already and they're a _lot_ nastier than anything you can conjure up. This little act of yours _bores_ me._' A jubilant, piercing giggle set my teeth on edge.

'_Of course, of course, so _that_ is the difficulty. No matter, I will tell you the same as I told your holy friend here…if you are naïve enough to think _my_ charms would not work on you…perhaps another's shall…_' Images flashed before my eyes. Hardly anything I'd not thought about before, but none were that…_real_. Nor so inviting. True enough I'd _seen _her all but naked, but not while she knew it, not while I could do anything about it, not like the scenarios that swam in front of me vivid as memories…I closed my eyes and banished the thoughts. There was no way I'd be stupid enough to fall for a demon's tricks, and Blooden seemed to sigh in resignation.

'_If you think something like that'll get a rise out of me, you're wrong.'_ She giggled again.

'_Deer, sweet little Bishop, any rise will do.'_ I thought I saw her wink, but was certain her face hadn't moved. I clenched my fists in anger. '_Oh, such _rage_ from you, such passion…_' her voice in my mind grew low, entrancing. '_Mmm, you're wasted on the open road, scout, that's for sure…such a pity that you must follow her as you do…'_

'_Don't follow her, demon. Just along for the ride.'_

'_In that case, I sense you have stalled long enough, for there is place in her arms for one and one alone…and which one shall it be?'_ Casavir's face flashed through my mind as clear as if he stood right in front of me. I glanced to where he was and saw him looking at _her_ as always, as if he'd fall to pieces, lose himself were she not there to tell him how to live his own damn life. I wanted to laugh again, but somehow as I looked at him I felt my teeth grit together. I'd been gone but four days and he must have pounced on the opportunity. The Succubus said no more to me, but I felt her eyes on my back as we left that place.

Well, I'd just have to make up for my absence. Flighty girls like the Captain didn't wait, but now that I'd stayed this long…there was no way I'd leave without taking something back. Nothing she wouldn't give willingly, of course, there'd be no sense in risking my life for a woman—

'_But you do that every day, and all for her. Why?'_ The thought was all mine, but I didn't know the answer.

"Shandra?" Evelyn's voice cut off any further musings. She looked up, all around, and finally closed her eyes and bared her teeth. "Shandra, talk to me."

"You crazy? She's not here," I said with a sigh. Great, not only with a the attention span of a four year old, but delusional as well. I sure had a habit of picking the crazy ones...

"Shandra! No, stop!" her eyes flew open again and she looked at the ceiling in despair. "Stop, stay where you are and we'll come get you! Stop, please, don't…don't…" she trailed off helplessly and angrily stamped once on the ground. "Shandra!"

"What's going on?" Neeshka asked, coming up next to her.

"She's here. She's _somewhere_ anyway. We…we have to open that portal. Something's going to happen."

"Evelyn, calm down," the druid spoke for what seemed like the first time that day, "If we rush into this…"

"...If we _rush into this_ she might just be slightly less _dead_ than if we take our sweet time!" Of course she wasn't thinking straight, but her logic always seemed to make more sense when she was angry, most things did…

"We don't know what we face, if we go there unprepared…"

"And how do you suggest we _prepare_ ourselves in this place?" Silence. "If we find her, we can figure out what's happening, we can figure out what to do, and more importantly she'll still be alive, now _stop making me slow down!_" Elanee said nothing in reply as the younger woman grit her teeth, whirled around, and kept walking. I noticed not for the first time how rage suited her so much better. Her ice blue eyes seemed to ignite with passion, and the way she snarled reminded me of an animal – cornered, outnumbered, but still screaming for a fight. Maybe that was why I was still here. Maybe that was why I was risking my life for a debt I'd paid long ago.

'_No, not paid, just equalled. Or perhaps that's what _he_ thinks…'_ Duncan's smiling face rose in my mind again and had I been inclined I'd have thanked the gods for making her unrelated to that fool. If I'd had to deal with another Farlong I'd have probably killed her on sight.

During the entire exchange Casavir hadn't said a word. Figures, since paladins weren't taught how to deal with hysterical women. Either that or he was too scared of pissing her off even more. Now _that_ would be a sight…

"Just one more damn demon…just one more to open the portal…" I heard her speaking under her breath. "Just one more…and I'll find you. Please, _please_ be alright…"

-+-+-+-

I didn't know how I could have been stupid enough to let Shandra do that. Why hadn't I stopped her before? Why hadn't I thought that, perhaps, allowing an ancient blood ritual to take place with one of my only true living friends _might_ be a bad idea?

I'd never forgive myself if anything happened to her. If, somehow, I'd failed, and my promise to protect her was broken. If…if I couldn't find her fast enough. I shivered at the thought.

'_I'm coming to find you. I promise, I'll be there soon. I'm coming…'_ I knew she couldn't hear my thoughts, but at least it soothed me a little. I was scared. Terrified, in fact. Not just of demons and devils and the way this entire place made me feel like my very blood was itching for a way out, but of everything I'd seen when I looked into Shandra's eyes. We were both scared, but neither of us wanted to admit it. Neither of us wanted to talk about the fact that everything we joked about was real, and that soon – now, in fact – it was going to be real, and I was going to have to lead an army against an enemy I didn't even know yet.

Yes, I knew all about the grown-up world where people fell down and didn't get back up again. I'd killed enough people, and seen enough cut down before me to know better than to think the world was a wonderfully forgiving place. And I had my share of demons. West Harbour...now that had haunted me for weeks. Still did, but it wasn't the same. Lisbeth was still alive, and I knew in my heart that it wasn't my fault.

But _this_ would be. I didn't know if I could live with that.

Blooden's room came into view once more, and she smiled with a twisted sort of glee as I approached. She'd made me feel strange, somehow. No, it wasn't lust, that much I knew. I didn't go for the type who could _literally_ make me take flight. It was something else, something that stirred in the pit of my stomach. I'd tried to ignore it as she spoke to me, but I could tell she knew. The way her full, red lips smiled at me so slyly told me enough.

"Thank you, sweetling. I just _knew_ I could rely on you." She winked, and slid her hand off her side, down one thigh, and flicked it round towards the portal. It flared into life with a whoosh of energy. "That'll teach you not to trust me, won't it?" She giggled, and I realised she wasn't looking at me at all. Casavir said nothing in response, but I saw the grip on his sword handle tighten almost imperceptibly. I wanted to tell him to ignore her, that we would be out of this soon, but didn't. I couldn't stall this any longer.

"Thanks," I said simply. She cocked her head to one side.

"Why, you're very welcome. Come back any time you like, though I doubt you will." She rolled her eyes with a smile. "Pity. I was _just_ starting to have my fun…anyway, I'm sure you must be off. Damsel in distress and all that…"

"Yes. Pity. Come on." I nodded my head at the portal and my companions wordlessly followed me. It was like an eye, or a pinpoint of light that torrential flames licked towards, swirling ever downwards. It pulsed like it was alive, and I thought about the power of this place, fuelled by blood. I reached out a hand, and felt cool air emanating. Without a look back, I stepped forward…

There was a blinding white flash of light, and I screwed my eyes shut, biting out a curse. I forced them open to survey my surroundings, and wondered where in the world we'd found ourselves…

If this was a 'laboratory' I hated to think what sort of experiments the master of this place was into. The floor was cracked, as if it had been torn in two by the very forces of the earth below, with glowing purple and red glyphs running across and up the walls, shimmering with inscriptions, runes, symbols, none of them meaning anything to me. The room was encased in dark, blue stone that shimmered with unearthly light, and there didn't seem to be any way out. No doors, no windows, no light but what shone from the magic pulsing through.

"Where are we?" I hadn't even heard them come through the portal, but I turned back and saw it had disappeared once the last of my companions stepped through. Neeshka spoke again, "Is…is Shandra here?"

"I don't know," I replied levelly, fear welling up in my gut, "I don't know where she is, and I don't know why nothing's happening…" I unsheathed my sword and heard the others follow suite as I took three tentative steps forward onto the centre platform. Blood stained the ground.

Another flash of light, and he was there. The warlock, the one that had killed that girl from the Nine. The one I'd smelt all over my village as I tore through its burning ruins. The one that had run from us before, and _would not do so again!_ My blood roared at me and I stepped back to stop myself from charging.

"Intruders…" I'd never heard him speak, I realised. Not to me, anyway. His voice was like a grindstone, and all the anger within was directed at us. At me. "Unbidden, unwelcome. How did you get in here, I wonder?" I saw his hands weaving a pattern through the air, and the aura around him crackled with magical energy.

"You don't know? You're supposed to be the master of this place—"

"Silence, _girl_. It won't matter soon enough." The linear tattoos on his head shone with the same unearthly light as the rest of this place, and I was on my guard instantly as he raised one hand, trailing iridescent light as a grim, predatory smile formed on his face. "So…I was right…" I felt a tug from within me, and instantly I remembered the screaming pain in my chest as Zeearie had picked me off my feet with little more than a thought…"Yes, you have even come bearing gifts. All the shards I have sought are right here, and one…one is even lodged inside you!"

"I'm special, yes." I brought my sword up and took a step forward. The smile changed into a scowl.

"You will not give them to me, then I will take them. From your hands, and…" He raised his arms and the movements of his fingers increased. From behind me I heard the others preparing their weapons, enchantments, spells, incantations joining the cacophony of voices. "From your corpse!"

I didn't use the reply that appeared in my mind about originality. I was too angry. I projected onto him all the hurt, all the suffering I'd kept locked away, and let the rage welling up inside me carry me through. I leapt forward amidst a cacophony of spells and headed straight for him, the figures and voices of my companions all giving me strength, strength to defeat this monster and give myself some peace at long last. This way, I wouldn't have failed them. All the ones I let die, I wouldn't have failed them. Not if I could avenge their deaths…

A bolt of light cut through my armour and skimmed my shoulder. I ignored it and spun into what should have been a solid hit were he not so bloody fast. The stones at the floor cracked apart to give way to vines summoned from the depths of the earth that grasped at his feet. Another blow, and another missed before I forced myself to focus through the haze of red and strike true. Only it bounced off a magical shield hastily erected. As did the three arrows that flew overhead. He was still casting even as the others and I hammered away at his defences, and my voice rose higher than his as I yelled oaths, curses, battlecries, shouted orders. The air was alive with magic, crackling desperately along my skin as a spark of hope ignited within me. He was bleeding, and gasping with effort. I lunged forward with a single-minded focus and felt the resistance of my blade sinking into his flesh as he cried out stumbled backwards.

Triumph sent a wave of adrenaline coursing through my blood before I remembered with a cold jolt up my spine that Shandra was still missing. He was rasping, breathing heavily, and crumpled defeated on the ground as his face screwed up in pain. His blood still stained my sword.

"Something isn't right." I heard Casavir mumble from my right.

"You _think_?" Bishop answered without missing a beat as he came to stand by my other side. They were right. It…it couldn't have been this easy. This didn't ring true at all. I hadn't fought this long, and this hard, and lost so much, just to have it all end in one swipe.

"This is not the King of Shadows." Sometimes I thought I'd made Zhjaeve up simply to order my thoughts for me. It seemed her only purpose in life, other than healing, and was certainly the case as she spoke.

And of course she was right. My blade wasn't even silver. An icy hand of fear gripped my stomach. This wasn't him. Then…then what in the hells _was_ he?

A blow, a jolt. Frustration welled up as I felt myself being propelled back by a shockwave originating from my opponent, and noticed that my other companions that were standing to close had met a similar fate.

"You…you think you have won?" He rasped out, his voice thick and gravely as his hand shot out, still shimmering with the energy of his spell.

He spat once on the ground as he stumbled to his feet and stood facing me again. How was he still so powerful? His wounds seemed to knit closed even as he stood there, my expertly delivered blows leaving no mark on his skin.

"You fools…you think you can defeat me in this place!" The walls pulsed with energy, his hands danced once again, coaxing magic out of the heavy air. "Here, all around us…this is my power…" Another pulse of the walls, thin blue lights running along the sides faster and faster as he called forth his power. I took a step back against my will and forced myself to stay strong. I could do this. I had to. And even if I couldn't, I'd try. Maybe that would inspire something suitably poetic in my companions. Something that would spur them onwards, to win. "This entire sanctuary exists only as my weapon! I can bind the powers of this place to my very essence!" He might not have been the King of Shadows, but that hadn't stopped him from deserving death several times over.

Fire raged from the heavens and lighting snapped across my vision as he raged with the elements. I dug my feet deeper into the ground as wind whipped around and around. I heard stumbling behind me but knew if I could just hold my place, if I could just hold my own in this battle, it would be okay. It had to be.

"Foolish, simpering girl. Did you honestly believe in all your _bravery_ that you could face me here, and _live?_"

"Don't matter if I live," I gritted out between teeth tightly clenched in concentration, "just as long as you _die_."

'_Evie!'_ She was calling me again. I tried to reach out to her presence with my mind and felt the fragile link she had forged. '_Evie, you can't win! You can't beat him!'_ Thunder and infernos flew leapt from the floor to the sky in front of me, and I felt the cool dread settling in my abdomen. Shandra knew me well enough to realise such a claim would mean exactly _nothing_ to me as a tactic to get me to flee. Unless, of course, it were completely true. '_These demons, these devils, they fuel his power. This whole damn place is helping him! There's no way you can beat him like this!'_

'_Shandra…it's the only way out of here. If…if I can't defeat him then I still have to try. I __can't__run away, even if I wanted to. Find an escape. Get out and stay alive.'_ Protestation and anger shot across the mental link, communicating exactly what she thought of my orders. '_Please'_.

'_You can't beat him, but _I_ can! There's…only one way to stop him, and I'm the only one that can do it.'_ No, no, no, not more of this. This wasn't fair. I felt her slipping away and I wanted to cry out, to tell her to stop putting herself in danger because of me and this thrice-damned shard. '_My blood. I can free the demons. Keep fighting him, Evie, I'll be helping you even if I can't be there.'_

'_Shandra! Please, stop, find a way to get out. He'll kill you, if they don't first!'_

"_I'm not letting you die! Not…not after everything we've been through!'_ Her voice seemed laced with tears even if I couldn't see her face. Despair welled up and I tried to fight it off. I had to concentrate, had to fulfil my part of the bargain. Kill him, save her, escape. It would work. It always did…

'_Shandra…'_ There was no response. Something…something was happening…

"Now, girl, let us end this. I will bury your bodies in the abyss, feed your flesh to the demons, leave you to…to…"his voice faltered, I saw his eyes roll back, and his entire frame seemed to deflate. I couldn't waste any time. I charged forward with a cry and lunged at—

Nothing. A blink of light and he was gone. I scanned the room, saw even _more_ of nothing, and cursed loudly. It seemed the only real thing I _could_ do.

"What? No! He did _not_ just get away _again!_" Neeshka's appalled cry mirrored my thoughts exactly. I searched frantically for a solution.

"I _hate_ losing my prey. Let's get after him…" Bishop growled, stalking in front of me and looking around the area he'd vanished from. His blood was still on the floor.

"We can't let him escape. Not again. Not after what he did." I didn't know why everyone, and now Casavir, felt they had to tell me what the best course of action was as if my blood wasn't already screaming for his death.

Blood. So that was the key. I grabbed a scrap of material from a nearby labstation and mopped up the tiny puddle on the floor hurriedly, ignoring the quizzical looks of my companions as they scouted around the room for a way out. But of course, there was only _one_ way out.

The portal loomed up before me as large as ever, and still just as unhelpful as it stood there still and silent. There was no mechanism, no way to activate it that would be immediately obvious, but then the truth rarely was. I wrung out the bloody cloth onto the portal's edge and watched with satisfaction as it flamed into life. Gasps from behind me told me it had been unexpected. I didn't even look back once more, Shandra's face flashing in my mind as I stepped through.

-+-+-+-

She made a small, horrified, disbelieving sound in the back of her throat, and my eyes instantly flew past her trembling shoulders to the lifeless heap on the ground.

'_We're too late…'_

Bloody, broken, and staring ahead blankly, Shandra's white face was twisted in pain and sorrow. Her long, fitted breastplate was ripped open like cloth, singed at the edges with the dark energy that had been her end. But that wasn't all. The same man that had vanished but minutes before was bent over her, his hand at her collarbone. I was shocked to see a strange kind of tenderness writ on his face. Regret. As we entered he pulled back quickly, and I thought I saw the glimmer of something disappear into his palm.

"He…he killed Shandra!" Neeshka choked out, her voice high and quivering with shock.

The captain's inaction didn't last long. She flew at him immediately with an primal cry from her very soul, and instinctively I reached out and grasped her wrist. She whirled round and her eyes flashed in anger that was now directed at me.

"Let _go _of me," she snarled in a dangerous tone. I didn't release my grip. "He _killed_ her, Casavir!" Her voice caught in her throat, and I saw the tears glinting in her eyes. It hurt, but I shook my head. There was more to the story here. He didn't make any move to attack us, and something told me he wasn't about to either.

"And killing _him_ will not bring her back." She was shaking, but lowered her head and loosened the death grip on her sword. Her sigh was quiet but ragged with emotion. "It isn't worth it."

"What? Aren't you going to take revenge?" Bishop demanded as he glared at her in disbelief. I brushed my thumb over the pulse point on her wrist, and saw her deflate slightly, tearing herself out of her fury to take deep, gasping breaths as her eyes fixed their fiery rage on the man in front of her.

"Get up. Get up and face me." Her voice was surprisingly level, but the utter lack of emotion worried me even more. Her eyes stayed clear of the body on the floor. Even she would have realised that her companion and friend was beyond resurrection. I didn't let the grief well up just yet, though. I kept my face schooled and my eyes ahead. She...she needed stability, and that's what I'd be. My own pain could wait. I grit my teeth together.

"Kill me if you wish," the warlock murmured, trying not looking at her, "No doubt you believe it is justified. My power is drained."

"You're right," she said coldly, and suddenly something seemed to occur to her. "If...if you are who I think you are then...you just killed your own granddaughter." So...this was Ammon Jerro? Then...no wonder he was so tormented... "But you know that already, don't you." A nod. "And if you'd just waited, not been blinded by your anger, spoken to us _once_ since we arrived..." Her voice started to shake violently with grief and anger intermingled dangerously into a single expression of torment writ large on her face. I felt the tension all the way to her wrist, and again it pained me that I could say and do nothing to take it away. This...this wasn't fair. "She would still be alive."

"You chose to bring her here--"

"Shut up!" She cried, "Shut the hell up before I damn well take you up on your offer and tear you a new--"

"Foolish girl. That will only add to the tragedy, as without me you cannot escape." She slipped her wrist from my hand and gripped the dark handle of her sword to relieve her anger.

"Then do it. Get us back to my gods-damned castle and then we'll _talk_ about this." She snapped curtly. He lowered his eyes, his expression not of humility but of regret, defeat.

"Then where one was lost...I may save you all. The...the fraction of power I have left that is tied to this place can take us from here." She closed her eyes and sheathed her sword in a decisive movement.

"Do it."


	16. Chapter 16

**A.N.** So sorry for how late this is! It was a real bitch to write (in fact most of the coming chapters are proving to be much the same…) so reviews are very welcome. And thank you all so much for 10,000 hits on my little story J Promise the next chapter won't be such a long time coming. Enjoy…

**Chapter Sixteen**

_..."Evelyn? Are...are you out here? Damn darkness, I...I can barely see anything..."_

_That snapped me right out of my daydream._

_  
"Shandra?" I called back, not quite understanding what she was doing in my vigil but not objecting to the company. Her face emerged from the night, warmed by the fire's glow, and smiled heartily._

_"Damn it's cold out here..." She hunched her shoulders and pulled the navy blue cloak tighter around her frame, clad once more in her own thin clothes._

_"Fire's dying a little..." I said by way of explanation, kicking a few woodblocks closer and rummaging around in the embers with a handy twig. There was a beat as she leaned closer and warmed up her hands, still offering no explanation for her sudden appearance._

_"Um...Shandra?"_

_"Mmm?" She replied, still staring at the fire as she rubbed her hands together._

_"You know that vigils are traditionally undertaken in...solitude?" Her gaze met mine, eyebrows raised, "Not that there's anything wrong with you being here, of course, seeing as I'm pretty sure this whole thing is a joke..." She barked a laugh and shook her head before jerking a thumb at the ominous-looking hills that surrounded us._

_"With the way trouble follows you like a bad smell__ you think there's any way I'd let you stay here all by yourself?" She looked so serious I couldn't stop a smile spreading over my face._

_"Aww, that's the sweetest thing anyone's said to me all day..." I said in a sugary sweet voice. She thumped me on my shoulder._

_"Don't mean it like that or anything, just wouldn't do for you to get killed while you're supposed to be looking after me..." The curve of her lips betrayed her amusement, and I grinned, looking out to where the blanket of stars silhouetted the hillsides. Suddenly I felt a hand envelope mine, and turned to her, forehead wrinkled in concern. "Hey, just make sure you don't think _too_ hard...you know, about the village? I mean of course _I_ know it wasn't you, no one but Luskan thinks that, and when this is all straightened out we'll find out who did and make them _pay_." She nodded firmly and I realised she could read me better than I thought. The accusation was preying on my mind, and I was glad for the company to take my mind off what this vigil was all about._

_I drew breath to thank her but first came the sudden realisation that we weren't alone. I signalled to Shandra, who immediately stepped back and put her hand on her blade as I scanned the black horizon. Slowly, I picked out a few figures approaching. I wasn't expecting anyone, and they didn't smell like knights to me._

_"Eh? What's this?" said a distinctly un-courtly voice as he and two other viciously ugly, scarred men stepped into the light, "We were told just the one but what the hells, lads, more the merrier!" There was a chorus of throaty laughter, and I wondered wryly how highly their employer _must_ have thought of me to send assassins of such prestige._

_"Oh come, now, good sirs, this is hardly a fair fight," I took a step forward and gave them a sly smile, putting the weediest-looking of their number on edge somewhat, "I might have to ask my companion here to stand aside. All for the sake of good sportsmanship, you understand." The largest spat in front of me._

_"Tough words, girl. Shame they'll be your last." Original lines did seem to be a problem these days, I noted._

_In unison my companion and I drew our blades..._

_-+-_

...It was the aftershock. The fallout of my own decisions. After the curtain fell, after the job was done, no one ever cared what happened to the weary heroes. They were given a medal, a pat on the head, and a dismissal. No one cared about everything they lost, or if their quest was even worth it.

And _my_ quest was far from over.

I'd told them to head to the inn, so that we could discuss what to do next in a familiar setting. I hadn't even shed a tear yet, and I could tell some of them were concerned. I didn't care. They should have thought of that before making me Captain. The pain was still a dark, dull throb in my chest whenever I realised that I'd never see her again. And...and the more I thought about it the more I realised it wasn't just because of her. It wasn't just because I missed her presence, it was because this time it really was my fault. I'd let her put herself at risk, and she'd died as a result. And I didn't have her to tell me I wasn't to blame. Barely anyone had spoken a word to me yet, and I was thankful for it. For what could they say other than sad, sympathetic offerings, each less sincere than the last? Even if they were sincere, it wouldn't matter. It wouldn't change anything.

And so, here I was. I'd walked in, yanked out a chair, and sat a good distance away from the others. My palm slammed on the bar top and a drink replaced it a few seconds later. I was still staring into it gloomily, my face a twisted mask of despair, frustration, _anger_.

The Warlock, the enemy, he stood not a few yards away, speaking to the others. I didn't want to look at him. If I did, I'd have killed him. I knew that the second we stepped out of the portal in the courtyard, and I'd got rid of my armour and my weapons quickly. We needed him alive.

'_Just as we needed her.'_

We _had_ needed her alive. Now, things had changed, and she'd died the moment she outlived her usefulness. It wasn't fair. Nothing was fair. I didn't care how childish the thought was, because that didn't make it any less _true. _I wanted to cry, to scream, to break every damn thing in this inn until the torrential storm of anger that burned like a river of sulphur in my blood had sated itself. But that would hardly be appropriate.

"So…he isn't dead after all," I heard Bishop's voice, and tuned in as he muttered under his breath. I still didn't look at them. "Glad we made sure of that before running into his labyrinth of demons..."

No, it wasn't a case of 'we'. It was _my_ job to keep everyone safe. It was my job to put myself in danger to protect my friends and allies. It…it had been my job to keep her alive. Like I'd promised…

I took a deep, shaking breath to push back the prickling that rippled up my nose and into my tear ducts. No, that wouldn't do just yet…not here…

I could sense Casavir looking at me but couldn't bring myself to look back. This morning everything had just...been so perfect. And now it was gone. The easy, lighthearted friendship I'd built with him could no longer exist with this shadow hanging over our heads. Suddenly, things had changed.

Suddenly, it was all real.

"I say we let our leader handle him..." Bishop spoke again, and I allowed myself a gloomy glance sideways, where they were gathered around Ammon Jerro, "...something tells me she'll straighten him out." I didn't know if the snide joke was an attempt to cheer me up or just for the sake of it. I suspected the latter.

And then they started talking, each murmuring about the strange twist of events that led to us being here, in this room, minus one but plus another. I said nothing, but concentrated on the drink cradled in my hands, still untouched. My stomach lurched like the crashing of a great wave whenever my thoughts slipped back to reality, and I struggled to keep my face schooled.

Then, I looked up, and seven pairs of eyes stared back at me, begging for an answer, an impromptu speech, an expression, _anything_ to make them feel they had a purpose, a light to guide them in these black times. There were tears in my eyes, but I kept my face rigid. I saw all of their faces, I saw _him_ and I knew that if I went any closer I'd break a bottle and gut him right there and then for making me face up to facts I just _couldn't_ deal with. If I didn't have a speck of self-control left I'd have spat on the floor. Instead, I kicked my stool back as I stood up, drained my drink and shoved it to one side before shooting one last deadly look at the man that in my one track mind was the source of all suffering before stalking off, my glass rattling as it spun to a still. Anger crackled around my vision like electricity. I needed something to kill, something to release myself upon and make it _pay_ for what had happened to her...

Gradually, I noticed I was crying. And now I didn't care who saw me. If they demanded I give up everything on a whim, throw myself into a cause I had nothing to do with, be at the beck and call of a city I owed nothing to...then...they should damn well be prepared to look at the result.

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She didn't look at me, didn't even acknowledge I was there as I rounded the corner to the practice courts where her lone figure worked with the aggression of ten men. The only sounds were her fists and sharp, controlled breaths as I walked closer.

"If you're here to mock me, then you can just piss off now because I'm _really_ not in the mood," she forced out through gritted teeth as she pummelled a practice dummy with two strips of cloth wrapped around her hands.

"Why's that, princess?" She bristled at Qara's usual nickname but stayed silent, ignoring me again and focussing on her task. The dirt on her face would have made her look even more tanned were it not for the tracks of long-gone tears that remained. Not for the first time I noticed how well anger suited her, darkening her eyes and colouring her cheeks, making her move like a demoness on the hunt.

"Shandra's death getting to you?" I asked absently. I'd hit a nerve, evidently, because the next blow to the sack she delivered was a straight, rapid punch that punctured the outer cloth and sent the insides filtering out, the area around the hole distinctively charred black as fire raced through her veins.

"Yes. It is," she spat, turning to face me and unwinding her knuckle wraps. "That and a host of other things. What's getting to me _more _is the fact that no one else seems that _bothered _about it." Her teeth were locked together tightly and her ice-blue eyes simmered with rage

"Can't blame you, really," I said. Her expression didn't change. "Hells, you're still a girl even _with_ the Keep and--"

"Enough!" she shot back at me, moving to walk past. No, it wasn't enough. Her fists were still clenched hard enough to draw blood with her nails but she wasn't raising them, not against the punctured sack let alone against me.

"It's true, and you know it." She stopped. "You're barely of age, and yet here you are, with people bowing at your feet and calling you 'Leader' and 'Captain' and 'Lady." She closed her eyes heavily and took slow, purposeful steps away from the court.

"I already _know_ I'm a shit leader, a worse captain, and that I haven't been a lady for a good few years now. If that's all, I'm leaving."

"Why? Looked like you were having fun," I said. She snorted and turned back, bringing her arms up and shrugging mid-step.

"Not enough. Rather have my hands on something real. Preferably that tattooed bastard I'm supposed to be being _hospitable _to." She spat out the word like a curse. Shandra meant the most to her as a friend and companion, everyone knew that, but the mismatched group she'd herded together was still dealing with her loss, each in their own way. Me? I didn't think of myself as part of it. I wasn't here because I believed in what she was doing or particularly cared how this little war played out. Come to think of it, I couldn't quite place _why_ I was here...

It was certainly more _interesting_ than any alternative I could think of...and _gods_ she looked good angry...

Not having Shandra somewhere in the background was strange, but I'd barely spoken to the girl outside of battle so her loss didn't phase me in the slightest. That was how things worked. Of course the thought that Evelyn could let one she cared so much about die and not bloodily avenge her killing was pretty unthinkable. I couldn't have been so restrained in her position. But of course she needed Ammon now that he was the last Jerro alive, and in her furious eyes I saw her utter frustration with this fact. Of course she wanted to kill him. But fate wouldn't be that kind. She moved to leave again.

"Go on then," I taunted. She stopped and turned to glare at me as I spread my arms wide. "Let yourself go."

¶She snarled at me and without hesitation took two quick steps forward, forcing her fist into the side of my cheek. I swerved to avoid the full impact but it still smarted like hell as it caught the edge of my cheekbone. I looked up at her and there was something feral in her gaze, anger smouldering behind those eyes that were still as cold and blue as ever. In a second I knew it wasn't just about Shandra. "That all you got, Evelyn?" I taunted, "The farm girl you swore you'd save is dead, and all because she thought it'd save you. Must feel pretty shi--" She brought her other arm up to backhand me across the face. I grabbed it but she yanked it down, aiming a kick at my midsection. She was livid with rage, but if anything it was making her stronger, faster...

"Shut up, _Bishop_!" she spat, seething. I'd never seen her so angry before. Rage pulsed out from her skin in waves, and her eyes darkened, casting long shadows over the freckled cheeks that did little to counteract her growing maturity.

"Why? Can't deal with the truth?" I caught her fist as she lunged for me and pushed her back. She may have been a lethal weapon all on her own with her blade by her side, but in hand-to-hand I was still stronger, taller.

"Just shut the hell _up!_"

"Make me." With a cry she propelled herself forward and rammed into me with her shoulder, using her momentum to make the uppercut into my gut particularly painful. She wasn't playing around, that was for sure. Fine with me. Enough games. I shoved at her chest and backhanded her across the face. She reeled around in anger aimed a punch to my neck, which I deflected and swerved my leg around to make her stumble over her own feet. I wasn't going to insult her by not hitting her back. After all, she'd said it herself - she was no lady. The Keep's Captain was a warrior born and bred. "Feeling any better now?" I smirked as she got up.

She spat at the ground an inch from my feet in response.

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His grip on my forearms was unbreakably firm as he pushed me flat against the stone of the Keep, his body towering over mine as he looked down at me. The intense few minutes of combat were enough to send my heartbeat racing, but it didn't look like slowing down even as I stood perfectly still glowering at him, my breaths coming in short, angry gasps.

"Done, yet?" he asked in that ever-mocking voice. I wanted to spit in his face but didn't. He wasn't just some nameless enemy. I clenched my teeth and gave him a fierce, heated look, forcing all of the anger, all of the frustration, all of the hatred I had in me into that one expression. Because that was it. I hated him for doing this to me. I hated the fact that I could hardly move even though I was sure I could slip out of his grip. I hated that a self-destructive, rebellious part of me loved it.

His breath fell on my face, warm like an animal's and laced with a dark, smoky smell I couldn't quite place. I was so angry at him, but I didn't know why anymore. For Shandra? It couldn't be. But for what, then? His body relaxed a little, but his fingers digging into my wrists were still firm. I realised I was pressed closer to him than perhaps was wise. But I didn't care. We were in the evening shadow of the Keep, and there was no one else around. My angry, heavy breathing was the loudest noise to be heard over the blood that pumped in my ears.

"Let go of me," I said, forcing my voice to become level.

"Say it again, this time I might believe you want me to." He saw right through me in a way I'd never thought possible. Those dark, mahogany eyes searched mine, lowered eyebrows making the slight upwards curve of his lips far from caring. He leaned in closer, and I could almost feel the electricity flying across the tiny gulf between us.

"Let _go_ of me," I replied slowly and deliberately, emphasising every word. He didn't move. Part of me knew what was going to happen, but I couldn't think about it in case I let it go ahead. I lowered my eyes and turned to look to one side, anywhere but at those viciously disarming eyes that roughly forced every pretence I had aside. "This isn't what I want," I said with far more force than I felt.

"Bullshit, you don't have a damn _clue_ what you want so how d'you think to tell me this ain't it?"

"I mean it," I whispered, "I'm done with this." I could barely get it out over my heart hammering in my chest. I couldn't give in now. I couldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing...

"Don't lie to me, Evie, you're not very good at it."

...that he was right. Every word. I snapped my head back up to glare at him as forcefully as I could manage, but what was left of my resolve was slowly crumbling. His face was so close I could almost taste his browned skin...

My body rebelled against common sense and I tilted my head upwards ever so slightly, him closing the gap in a second as his lips crushed against mine, body stretching out to push me further against the Keep. His tongue forced its way in as I parted my lips and I found myself desperately returning the whirlwind of a kiss. That intoxicating scent of his filled my nostrils and made all notions of what I knew was so very bad for me fly out of my head. I'd wanted this so bad ever since I first saw him, and it was almost painful to realise that the craving had only grown stronger despite all my illusions of self-control. His day-old beard scratched against the skin of my cheeks like sandpaper but I couldn't get enough of it. I was almost glad for his hands holding me in place, for I didn't trust myself to stand upright effectively under the hot, hungry kiss that lit a fire in my belly I hadn't felt for far too long.

He broke away before I had the presence to, and moved his mouth to my jaw line, my neck, brushing away the high collar of my shirt like a nuisance and found pressure points under my skin I hadn't known existed. Every muscle, every nerve screamed at me to let him have his way, and take me right there and then against the cold stone wall. I hadn't lain with a man in over a year and a half, and even then the pickings were rather slim, narrowed down to the adventuring travellers that passed through the neighbouring villages. But I had always been the one to choose, the one who chose exactly who I wanted and drove him to near madness with desire before sending him on his way. But Bishop...I couldn't lie to myself about this and pretend I'd been the one to seduce him. This couldn't happen, I told myself as his hands slid down my now loose arms and widened the gap between my belt and shirt with warm, callused fingers on my stomach, my sides... But this just couldn't happen. I couldn't let myself be taken in like this. My insides lurched painfully as the full impact of what was happening hit me. Somehow, I had to stop it.

I pushed weakly at his shoulders, but he apparently took it for token resistance and ignored it entirely. His mouth found mine again, and I responded for a moment of madness before I twisted my head and pushed him away, more firmly this time. Now, he stopped, and simply looked at me, shaking his head and smirking, tongue darting out to catch a lingering taste from the corner of his lip. I didn't want to say a thing in case he threw it back at me like he always did, so instead, with an assertiveness that even surprised me, I took off at a half-run to the corner with barely a glance back at him. I could feel his eyes on my back, could even picture his expression, but didn't care. I couldn't let this happen. I reached the corner of the wall and turned without looking back. I slowed and pressed my back against the wall, sliding down and breathing harder than I would have liked. How in the Hells was he doing this to me? I was a leader of hundreds, a strong, in-control woman. I shouldn't have let my senses be entirely overridden by someone like him.

I punched the wall with the side of my fist in anger. I was just a girl. I was still only nineteen years of age. He was right.

I didn't hate him because I loved him. That was nowhere near true. No, I stripped away every layer I could find and saw that whatever else I was lying to myself about, that wasn't it. For once I'd reached an honest conclusion. I didn't want him. Being with him wasn't so bad it was good. It was just...painful.

The thought of his hands against my skin repulsed part of me, and yet the other half refused to let the sensation go. I just hated him. I hated him for what he did to me. The allure I'd felt wasn't some girlish rebellion against propriety. I knew that now. I knew that the second his lips trailed fire across my skin like a cattle brand.

He confused me like so many people did these days, but it wasn't a good kind of confusion. It wasn't the pleasant, giddy uncertainty that came with a new lover or conquest, it was a black hole. He made me doubt myself, and weakened everything I was instead of helping me be stronger. I was stupid for letting him do this to me. Now he had the advantage, and now I couldn't pretend there was nothing between us. I'd had my taste, and it...it wasn't right. I knew it, somehow. But even so, it would always linger there until we parted ways. He would hold it over my head like a razor-edged pendulum, and eat away at my resolve. Hot tears sprung to my eyes.

I looked to the sky for another answer, and instead saw Shandra's image floating in the clouds. I felt like screaming. Instead, I turned and saw above the fence the sign to the tavern, and to my room. To Hells with him.

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"Where is she?" I asked, knowing that I'd never receive a straight answer from him. I had seen her heading for the practice courts in the back, and knew she needed time alone. But she'd also been gone for a while now, and after today I had to make sure she was alright, even if she didn't care herself.

"Don't you know, paladin?" It continued to astound me how easily he was able to make the word sound like an insult. It probably was, to him.

"She left, then you left, in the same direction. I had assumed you meant to seek her out but she isn't here now. Where did she go?"

"Eyes like a hawk, I see." He scoffed. "What's got you so interested, anyway? Afraid I'll corrupt your _Lady?_"

"Just answer the question." I replied, trying to steady my breath. I wouldn't let his words get to me this time. There were more important things to think about than petty rivalries.

"What do you want with her?" He asked with a cock of his head. So surprising was this interrogation that I couldn't help but be bemused.

"What?"

"You're always so quick to jump to her aid, defending whatever's left of her honour and all that. Figured I'd try it to see if there's some kind of cheap thrill." He smirked, lowering his eyebrows, "Answer the question," his tone was a passable imitation of my own, and he knew it would grate on my nerves. '_No time for this...'_

"She's lost a friend, and she's upset, even someone like you must be able to understand that."

"So what do you want? Hoping to 'comfort' her in her time of need?" Bishop said.

I bit back the retort that immediately formed using a lifetime of discipline. "Do you know where she is or not?"

He shrugged, apparently bored of baiting my temper."No idea. Probably drowning her sorrows in a vice or three." He turned away from me, entirely dismissive as if I wasn't even there. I left without another sound, finding his words difficult to swallow without gagging on an enraged reply. I would settle things with him later. For now, she was more important.

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I rapped quietly on the heavy door to her temporary room and listened for any signs of life. I began to wonder if she had gone to sleep or was even there at all when I heard a small, croaky voice say 'it's open'. When I entered, I saw her sitting, propped against a wall, motionless, face turned away from me towards the grand bay window overlooking the walls. The shaft of moonlight filtering through cast long shadows in the sparsely furnished bedroom, but she herself was engulfed in a pale blue light that shimmered on the silken shift she wore as the hem bunched up at her knees.

"My Lady?" I began, thinking it as good an opening as any. I never seemed to know how to talk to her, for all my years as a so-called knight. I'd thought I'd worked it out at last, and then...and now...after today I didn't know what to think. Everything had changed. With great effort her head turned slowly to face me, a faint yet sorrowful smile forming on her lips.

"Won't be much company tonight. Everything's just..." She blinked in concentration. I could see the effects of the alcohol written on her face and movements as she awkwardly gestured with a limp arm "...messing me up a little..." Her voice carried a slight slur. She turned back towards the window and slumped her shoulders down again, breathing heavily.

I didn't know whether it was a signal for me to leave or not, but her manner was not dismissive, just...defeated. I walked over slowly and stood still before her. Her head tilted back, hair falling from in front of her face, and her large, red-rimmed eyes were pleading. That was all the reassurance I needed. I offered her a hand. Eventually, she took it, and allowed me to help her to her feet, sliding an arm around her waist to support her. Wordlessly she leaned towards me and rested her forehead on my chest, eyes closing as a deep, shaky breath escaped from her mouth. I held her closer with another arm around her shoulders and felt her relax ever so slightly.

"Tell me."

She said nothing at first, but remained perfectly still. I noticed with surprise how much smaller she was without her heavy armour and aura of confidence surrounding her like a barrier. Perhaps I had idealised her too much. She was a born leader, enchanting to all and lovely to look upon, a force of light in the darkness that was slowly descending, and yet she was still a woman, a mortal, as frail as any other.

"Shandra...she's dead," she said suddenly, as if the whole concept was one that she hadn't quite understood yet. "And...and there was _no_ damn reason either." She gestured vaguely with one hand, her voice breaking from the force of her frustration coupled with her heightened emotions. I held her closer, unsure of what I could say. Before I thought about what I was doing I'd already kissed her hair, still carrying the aroma of wood smoke, in an impulsive and roundabout indicator for her to continue.

"Com...completely unnecessary," she went on, stumbling over her words as she tilted her head to the side, resting her cheek against my collar. Her breath was warm, but the unmistakeable and _strong_ scent of hot wine and spirits was intermingled. "She was just _dragged _into this whole _stupid _thing because of her blood. It's not...not fair. I should have been the one dying for this. I...I ch-chose to be here. She nev...never wanted...to." She was choking on her words, and not for the first time I thought about how unfair all of this was.

"She made _her_ choice as well, and that was to fight with you. There was nothing we could have done." I paused, feeling her nod but unsure if she was actually agreeing or struggling to stay awake. "And from what I have heard you had little choice in this matter yourself. You are our chance to _win_ this battle. You are _not_ its cause." I held her face in my hand as I met her eyes, puffy from too many tears lost and welling up with fresh ones even as I spoke. I hadn't even realised she had been crying. She probably hadn't either. It was a strange and deeply unsettling thing to see her so vulnerable, so broken. "And you will not die for this, my lady. Not while I draw breath." She smiled sadly, lowering her eyelids and wiping at her lashes.

"Don't say that," She breathed an ironic chuckle in a husky voice, "I know _all about you_." She tapped my chest with a long, slender finger, "They...they told me that you...you fought against the Orcs like a man looking for death...but you never found it, did you?" Her eyes met mine in an intense, calculating stare that pierced right through the drink. "I...I don't plan to die any time soon, and you shouldn't either. 'sides...it ain't like my life is worth more than any others'."

"I doubt there's a single person here that would agree." I smiled and once again she looked away, rubbing a sleeve over her eyes. "You're who they look up to, you're who they rely on, who they trust. Without you this keep is just a building. Never think all you've done has been for nothing." I felt her sigh heavily, and I knew I wouldn't have had the courage to say any of it at any other time.

"Stop it...that's what...that's what I'm scared of." Her fingers dug into my shirt. "All these people relying on me, calling me a bloody 'Captain' and scraping like I'm actually cut out for it. Hah. Doesn't make any sense. I'm a joke." She laughed wryly and leaned her body in so her head rested on the crook of my neck. Hesitantly, I began to stroke her hair, wondering what had possessed me all of a sudden. She didn't object in the slightest, though, so I continued, wondering again at the prominent freckles dotted in a strange pattern around her hairline. Her ever so slightly pointed ears peaked out from in between the wavy cinnamon locks that fell loose down her back.

"That's not true," I replied instantly. "You...you try...and you work so hard...you...you act where so many simply watch and do nothing." She was perfectly still. "All the others here, myself included, owe it to you or the city to continue on, but you...you owe nothing to Neverwinter yet you still strive to save it." I let it go unsaid how admirable such a thing was. After a moment she pressed her face closer to me and closed her eyes tight.

"I'm still terrified," she whispered, "I'm supposed to lead a bloody army, if I even live that long. I...I don't think I can deal with this. Maybe that's why I hoped no one would notice if I just slipped away for a bit...But you did, didn't you." It wasn't a question. Her eyelids lowered and her brows came together in what was simultaneously confusion and understanding. She was so close, and so warm, yet so vulnerable. I didn't know what to do.

"You're not alone in anything you do, not in battle and not in this," I said quickly, letting the words come before I had a chance to censor them, "When you were on trial...I told you I would be your Champion then...that is still true today. I'd follow you to the ends of this earth, into death and beyond, because I believe in what we're doing. Because I believe in you." The impact of what I had just uttered hit me as her head tilted upwards and she smiled ironically.

"Is that a promise, Casavir?" I didn't know when she was joking. The strange thing was, I didn't think she knew either. For once, it seemed, all her pretence and defences melted away and it was just _her_ that looked and saw right through me with those piercing ice-blue eyes. For once I defied propriety and followed my instinct, leaning closer. She apparently needed no more encouragement, arching her body towards mine and claiming my lips with hers, scorching with intensity the moment they touched.

She tasted of spiced liquor, desperation and foolishness, her lips full and yielding from her angry tears a moment before. I tangled a hand in the softness at the base of her skull as she tugged at my shirt. Before I knew it a hand slid up my chest and gripped the back of my neck, kissing me deeply as my world began to spin. Another pulled at my shirt more insistently, slipping under the hem and brushing against my side. Her hair spilled over her bare shoulders in a stunning contrast, and its scent was quickly becoming intoxicating, as was her proximity...

I had to do something before I lost all control. Reluctantly, I placed a hand on her cheek and held her back, looking down. She stopped, and wrinkled her brow in confusion, her mouth a little open and scowling before blood flooded her face and took several steps back hurriedly, not meeting my eyes as she tugged her shift down self-consciously. "Sorry...I'm sorry." She stumbled over her words in a manner I had never thought possible, struggling over to the window and turning her eyes downwards as she breathed deeply and tried not to look at me. "You...you should go." Her breaths were irregular and hurried. I could almost see the humiliated lump in her throat as she glanced up at me. "Please. Just go." She held her head in her hand and inhaled deeply through her mouth.

"My lady..." I took a step towards her.

"Just _go!_" She was frantic, exhausted, intoxicated and hardly herself. I sighed, my desire to stay with her battling with years of following orders. As usual, the latter won.

"Goodnight, my lady," I said, leaving instantly before she could explain to me exactly why what had just happened could never happen again when she was responsible for her own actions. I leant against a wall outside to catch up with my thoughts, knowing that if I'd stopped earlier it would be harder to keep going.

Was she serious? She had seemed serious enough, but it didn't make any sense to me. Every man that came into contact with her wanted her, even if just for her looks, and she could have had her pick of any one of them. How was it, then, that it was I and not another that had held her in my arms just a moment before? It could have been anyone, I supposed. I was the only one that thought of looking in on her. It...it could have been _him _instead, and he wouldn't have stopped. The thought made my blood boil.

She was so young, so vibrant, so alluring and commanding. I wondered suddenly if I meant anything more to her than a convenience, a loyal slave as I had been for too much of my life. But no. I couldn't think of it seriously without changing everything I thought I knew about her. She was a trickster and an actress at times, but not a liar, and in no way cruel. There was something very real in what she said. It felt like for a moment I glimpsed who she really was. But...had she even known who _I_ was? Her eyes opened and as the confusion cleared there was a moment of horrific clarity written on her face. Why was she so shocked? Was it because I had pushed her back, or because she suddenly realised it was me and not...another?

I decided I wouldn't know any more simply by obsessing over it. At least not tonight. With one last look at the open curtains of her window, I made my way to my quarters in the keep.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

I swam up from the bottom of a deep, murky sleep and remembered with annoyance how I had forgotten to close my curtains. Light streamed in like a foghorn, and even when I turned away its presence glared through my clenched eyelids. My mouth tasted like beer and bile, making me instantly regret whatever it was I had drunk last night as the force of the pounding in my head revealed itself in its revolting entirety.

I _had_ to stop waking like this.

Sighing, I sat up, and instantly regretted it as my head swam and my sleep-encrusted eyes were forced closed. I shook my head and steeled myself until I was something resembling conscious. I would have a nice late morning once my room in the Keep was finished and I had real curtains instead of the thin, flimsy cloth blowing into my temporary accommodation in the Inn.

I slid my shaking legs out from beneath the cover and was suddenly transported back to the night before, my face burning with humiliation as the events flitted past my vision. What had I done? I felt Bishop's lips on mine, the growing animal desire pounding through my blood as he pressed closer...but wait. I snapped open my groggy lids and realised that the eyes I pictured boring into mine were a deep, dark blue, framed with thick black lashes and an expression of concern I knew would never genuinely come from the ranger. I had kissed Casavir too, feeling again like the blushing maiden I once was, sick with the early stages of girlish infatuation. The warmth I had felt rush into me, as he held my face in his hand and promised never to leave my side, was something I hadn't felt for even longer than the blast of desire that came with the feel of a man's body against mine. In fact, I didn't think I'd _ever_ felt the former...

But...what must he think of me now, I wondered? At the first chance I got I had I jumped on him like a mare in heat, when all he was trying to do was be the knight he was. Shandra's death had shocked him as well. I always considered he might have been a little sweet on her before, and while the thought had previously annoyed me a little, now it shook me to my core as I realised he had probably still been grieving in his own way, just as I was. He was doing what he always did with hysterical women...and apparently a little 'paladin charm' was all it took to make me throw myself at him in a drunken stupor.

No, I had known full well what I was doing, even though the consequences had eluded me a little in my inebriated state. This made my knees crumble as I tried to rise. Katriona had certainly loved him once, in fact she probably still did. Even Shandra hadn't been entirely immune to his charming sincerity. All he was trying to do was calm me down, put me back together as I fell apart. No wonder he left in such a hurry. I was no better than Bishop. Him and the Paladin...the two men, polar opposites. I was just getting used to the bizarre idea of having a shard of silver lodged in my chest, and then the pair of them had to come along and turn my world on its head once more, leaving me a stuttering, immature girl.

I felt like I was sullying Casavir by leaning on him so much and dragging him down with me into the deep, black pit of self-pity I'd dug for myself. I knew he wasn't perfect, I could see the inner conflict written in his eyes, but I didn't care. I'd seen enough of him to know he was a good man who'd had a hard life. He didn't need my inability to cope with the world adding to things.

I took a deep, cleansing breath, and let it out again. The silence was almost audible, like when a room full of people suddenly fall quiet, and I realised the main difference was that I no longer knew what to do. There wasn't a set path anymore, and the silence was just my mind's way of informing me it had conveniently chose this moment to run out of helpful ideas.

I needed a hug, and realised that although I'd never met my mother now would be a convenient time for her to materialise from beyond the grave and comfort me. There'd always been a path set out before me, an inner voice guiding my actions, telling me what was right. But I hadn't read ahead to this part of the script. Keep fighting. That was the only course of action. That or run away, and however attractive the option was looking from my point of view, I knew I'd never resort to it.

Something occurred to me, and in a flash of clarity I knew what I should do.

I stood up, pulled on the nearest pair of trousers and threw a loose tunic over my head, remembering my boots at the last minute before I left my room with a single purpose in mind.

I needed a long, _hot_ bath.

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Of course there were a few tin baths in the inn, but they would hardly do for my purposes. In the same block as the infirmary, though, were a collection of unnecessarily large, wooden tubs, with several industrial sized black pots nearby. The woman in charge of all of this, as well as the kitchen, was aptly named Bertha. While you couldn't judge a ship by its hull, Bertha was about my height, built like a barn, and aged like a public building. She was also convinced that, given the chance, there wasn't a problem in the world that couldn't be cured with one of her Hearty Meals and a Long, Hot Bath. Not only was Bertha everyone else's surrogate mother, but she also took great pleasure in being mine once in a while. She took one look at me, tutted, and practically manhandled my unresisting form into a tub once the water was suitably scalding, leaving a small pile of towels to one side, nodding her satisfaction, and leaving me to it.

It only then occurred to me how ridiculous the situation was. I was sitting in a steaming bath, in the middle of my own Keep, surrounded by my own army, on a mission to save the world. Even I wouldn't have believed it if it wasn't _quite_ obviously the case. The water seemed to make such thoughts disappear, though, and I allowed myself for the first time in months to forget, to relax. Everything melted away, the faces, the issues, the losses, all of them blowing past like confetti off to somewhere far, far in the distance where another would hear their problems as I rested my head on the edge and my eyes slipped closed...

Several hours of nothingness later, the water was beginning to chill. But by then every negative thought seemed to have slithered out of my pores, and I felt as pure and carefree as a newborn. I eased myself out of the tub and, with legs that felt as if they'd been liquidised, meandered over to the pile of inviting, fluffy grey towels. I picked one up and turned to wrap it around myself when I caught sight of my reflection in a large, cracked mirror that had no real business being there. The first thing I noticed was that those damnable freckles still broadcasted my age like a beacon. The second, and considerably more depressing thought, was that I looked like one of those diseased old hags that littered the streets of every large city and shuttled between villages peddling remedies.

Blotches marred my sallow, thinned skin, stretched over my now skeletal frame like a beaten cloth hung out to dry. It wasn't that long ago that my skin was smooth, flawless and rosy with youth, and my body was shapely like a young woman's should be, with round, full breasts and ribs that didn't stick out when I inhaled deeply. I looked like a boy. A cut-up, sinewy boy with long, stringy hair, muscular arms carved from sword fighting and a rider's stocky thighs. Scars old and new carved up my skin. There was a third deep gash on my jaw line. It matched the other two already cutting my face in four. It was absurd to think I could run from my problems when they were right here in front of me, my body a living testament to how much I'd changed.

Well, now it wasn't so unthinkable that he'd push me away. _I_ would have.

It was astonishing, I thought as I squeezed the water from my hair, that the mere-famed belle of West Harbour was now reduced to a wrung-out, scraggly girl with nothing but a blade and an ill-deserved title to hold on to. Although…reduced? Was that the right word? Thousands were counting on me and the '_gift'_ I had to protect them from what we all knew was coming. That was something. Something that even I knew was worth far more than fleeting beauty and such childish concerns. Lisbeth's terrified face as she cowered in her basement flashed before my eyes. I was being incredibly selfish. I still had her; to me she was everything and everyone I was fighting for. And I'd win.

I was young, and Gods knew I was unstable enough at times. I glanced over to where my sword stood, propped up near the door. But not now.

Now I had to be a leader again.

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Her face was hard as stone, and she looked nothing like she did off of the battlefield. She parried his strikes expertly, not even looking before whirling round into a counter attack and catching him unawares. He hardly managed to block it, and the strength of the blow sent his sword skidding across the ground as it flew out of his hands. There was a quick burst of applause and murmurs of approval. Nevalle shook her hand proudly and the instruction of the initiates continued, each of them a little more enthusiastic from the demonstration of surprising skill. Without a doubt she was the best female sword fighter I'd ever seen. Having been with her in the midst of battle I'd found myself wondering whether she wasn't one of the best overall. If not in skill and refinement, then in potential. She didn't have the years of experience that the greatest swordsmen did, but all the same she wielded the larger weapon like it was an extension of herself. The improvement since I'd known her was astonishing. Who knew what a few more years would bring? There was hardly any learned technique there, and little logical thought behind her attacks, just pure unbridled instinct that always seemed to carry her through.

I'd never seen her more sure of herself than when there was an enemy standing between her sword and her goal. At least that was something I could understand. I exhaled heavily. Things were so much simpler on the battlefield.

"Enjoying the view?"

I tensed up immediately at the sound of his voice and closed my eyes to control the temper that flared up. I hadn't meant to stay and watch like the dozens of soldiers scattered around the courtyard. I'd been walking along the battlements jutting out from the Keep's main walls like I always did to clear my head. There was always something I found that needed doing, and if I'd learned nothing over my twenty odd years with the Order, it was that duty was a great distraction from the real problems in life. The pleasures, too. I'd been drawn to the clash of swords and couldn't help but watch her. I never _could_ help it, even as I rebuked myself for clinging on to an already long-dead hope.

"What do you want?" A tired old question, but relevant just the same. I didn't look at him because I knew he'd be wearing that grating, snide smile that made me wish I hadn't left my sword behind. Scolding myself for the very un-paladin thought would do no good. This was something I still hadn't mastered.

"Just seeing how you were..." My head shot up at that, and confusion quickly turned to anger as I saw the ever-present sneer painting his face. "I mean after you slunk away last night, _well_, rejection like that must hurt. Yeah, I saw. Figured I'd do your job for you since you didn't seem man enough." He cracked his knuckles and his eyes slipped down to where she stood next to Nevalle, hip cocked out to one side as she leant on her sword. "Turns out all she needed was a strong pair of arms and someone who knew what he was doing. Damn, those little sounds she made..."

I was glad that this area was West-facing, as it was still bathed in shadow. Also, I was glad he was wearing leather armour, as it hardly made a noise when I rammed him back against the wall, pure anger taking over my training. I pressed my bracer harder against his throat, snarling. He choked out a laugh, and I knew he'd got what he came for.

"Said it...before..._paladin..._" he rasped. I didn't let up. I knew I was stronger than him, but he also knew I wouldn't do him any serious injury. Not unless she asked me to, anyway. "You're...too easy." Of course I didn't believe him when he'd said it. But for a split second my insecurities blinded me to what I knew was the truth. It felt good to finally be fighting back, but I knew this wasn't the way to do it. Besides, said the infuriating, ever-present voice of doubt, I had no right to be angry even if it _was_ true. As...as long as she was happier that way. But the rest of me refused to let it go.

"Stay away from her." It was something I'd said before, but I meant it more than ever. If I thought she'd actually want to listen to me now, I'd have told her just as much. She didn't deserve someone like him skulking around. She didn't deserve someone with my baggage, either, but I wasn't trying to force my way like he was. He laughed through the pressure on his throat.

"You...believed me...didn't you..." I let go and stepped away, leaving him slumped heavily against the wall. He straightened himself, his breathing more ragged than usual, and smirked again. "No wonder she told you to get out..." His words meant nothing to me. The more I repeated this in my head, the more it worked..."Not that you'd have a clue what do if she didn't, holy man like you..."

Questioning my sexual prowess was a logical step, I supposed. Next thing he'd be saying I preferred the company of men. The more I realised just what he was and what he was after, it became easier to ignore the petty, insignificant slurs that rolled into his speech so easily. He wouldn't be here right now if he didn't think of me as a threat in some way. For a grown man he was still an awful lot like a child.

"You've not given anyone here a reason to trust you," I started, "And that includes her. She'll realise it sooner or later, because, unlike _you,_ I know that—"

"...Sounds like good advice, paladin," he said as if I hadn't kept speaking, "Funnily enough it's the exact same thing I told her about you."

"What?" I growled. I had meant to leave it at that, walk away, but shock hit me again and I couldn't keep quiet.

"Surprised? Knowing your track record you really shouldn't be. Thing is, no matter what you think of me, I'm a damn sight more honest with myself and everyone else than you are. I _know_ what I want, and I make no secrets about that. You?" He scoffed, "You can't even figure out how you feel about a _woman_ for crying out loud. You're pathetic, just like all the other holy warriors. All that pent-up frustration.," He shook his head, an unpleasant grin settling itself on his face, "You can't even take a real swing at me. It's the saddest thing I've ever seen. I'd say you should find yourself a starving wench like Evelyn down there and have her teach you a thing or two if you hadn't already screwed that up." It took every ounce of control I had not to strike him. If it ever came to it, I knew I could kill him. He was the better killer, that much was clear, but I also knew with one look that I had so much more to fight for.

"Do not speak of her as if she is one of your empty-headed tavern girls." I refused to look at him, instead calming myself by gripping the crumbling edge of the wall overlooking the now emptying courtyard. I caught a glimpse of her cinnamon hair disappearing into the Keep. "At least not without her here to defend herself."

"Figured you could be doing that for her, since it's what you seem to live for. Problem is, unlike you I _know_ she can deal with whatever people say, so I don't get myself all riled up about it like you do."

"Get out of here" I said, closing my eyes. Not once had I sought to argue with him, and yet he always seemed to appear, to agitate me as if trying to prove something to himself. He took a step closer but I didn't move. I knew he wouldn't do anything here and wouldn't gratify him by letting him think he could frighten me.

"I know what she wants, I know what she needs, and it's not someone who's too afraid to make the hard decisions and do what needs to be done. Someone who's not afraid to _give_ her exactly what she wants..."

"And that's you?" I asked neutrally. I'd lost enough control for one morning, and reigned in all the aggression I felt bubbling up.

I could _hear _him smirking, "Maybe I'll ask her." With that he was gone, and I was left once more to the torrential storm of thoughts tearing around my head.

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I left my blade behind just like the last time I tried to talk to him in the tavern. It, along with my other things, were being moved into my brand new room in the Keep, which had been completed amidst the general chaos of rebuilding to defend against the ever-approaching shadow on the horizon. Well, at least I had curtains now. That thought was little comfort as I pushed open the door to the tiny room jutting out of the Keep and prepared myself for what was to come. I didn't want to talk to him, especially about this, but I had to. That was my job, after all. With all that had happened I knew it had to be done. I couldn't just sit sulking until things sorted themselves out. Besides, it was certainly taking my mind off...other matters. He didn't even turn to look at me as I entered, instead remaining by the bare window frame, staring out to the south. I _knew_ that he knew I was there and why, and his lack of respect infuriated me, especially after everything he had done. The memory of Shandra as she lay in a crumpled, lifeless heap returned to me and I grit my teeth, taking in a deep, steady breath until I was something approaching calm.

Ammon Jerro stood entirely still in his near empty room as my own eyes bored into the back of his skull. I drew breath to speak, but he went first.

"Why did you bring her to my haven?" The cold, accusing question hit me like a blow to the gut. "You knew she was of my bloodline...but surely you _must_ have known she would not have survived." His was the tone of a downtrodden leader, risen from the ashes of his despair to place the blame. His fingers dug into the wooden window frame, and the midday sun streamed in over the top of his bowed head. Frustration welled up inside of me with a sudden rush of adrenaline and I fought with my body to remain still.

"She would have survived if you hadn't killed her." Plain, simple facts, presented in an astoundingly calm tone. I must have grown a year or five since yesterday.

"If you had left the matter to me, she would be alive, and I would still _be_ at my full power!" Only now did he turn to face me, tattoos glowing bright and swimming with magical energy.

I narrowed my eyes. "Left to yourself you _still_ managed to kill your own granddaughter, as well as be a real _bastard_ about it to me."

"Thanks to your interference, _child_, the Jerro bloodline will end with me." He drew breath to continue, but something inside me snapped. I didn't want to be placid about this anymore.

"Aren't you even the _slightest_ bit apologetic?"

"Apologetic?" He scoffed. "This is your fault."

"My...! How _dare_ you! She was probably the greatest friend I've ever had and you _killed_ her! You and this Gods be damned King of Shadows took away _everything_ from me, and you have the _fucking _nerve to swan in here and blame_ me_ for your shortcomings?" I wanted to spit in his face, to show him in one single gesture exactly how little he meant to me, but something in his eyes changed. He deflated, surrendered, and I knew he was just as torn up as I was. Just like that my anger had evaporated, and I felt so sad for the man in front of me. He really _had_ lost everything. I'd thought I'd grown out of such childish sympathy. Guess I wasn't as old as I thought.

"I do..._regret_ some of my actions," he forced out, his teeth grit together making his voice seem even more gravelly, "though that does not change the fact that you _broke in_ to my Haven, and _took_ answers that you were not prepared to wait for." I didn't say out loud what immediately sprung to my mind as a reply. I knew that was the closest I would ever get to an apology. I breathed in, reigning back all my frustration and hostility, and turned my mind back to what actually mattered.

"What were you doing there in the first place? We were told you were long dead. And what do you know of...our enemy?" It was the first time I'd thought of the real struggle in a while. The King of Shadows was a far-off figure in my mind, but I could sense the end was rapidly approaching. Whatever the challenge, I had to be prepared.

And so I listened. I listened to years of research, searching, struggling, all in the name of putting this ancient evil away for good. As luck – or fortune – would have it, we _did_ need Jerro. As the bearer of the last Blessing of Purification, he was just as important as I was. He was strong, too. I'd seen that much for myself. Perhaps his addition to our strange little party would not be so unwelcome, putting to one side its...cost.

"Let me ask you something, _Captain_ Evelyn," his eyes were cold and appraising. Unconsciously, I straightened, lifting my chin like I was being inspected. "Why do you want to stop this? Why do you fight the King of Shadows?"

"What?" Of course the question took me by surprise. I'd never even thought about it before, and that shocked me even more. Why _was_ I doing this?

"My motivation in this respect is clear, and has been so from the start. I cannot say the same for yours."

"At least I've caused less trouble than you have." It slipped out before I could use basic human decency to stop it. Still...it was true.

"Is that so?" It was a sneer, but I could tell he knew I was right, even if he'd go to hell and back before admitting it. At least I hadn't blown up anything that didn't _really_ _need_ blowing up. It seemed that he was just here for his own petty revenge. Although I knew just how strong such a desire could be. He cocked his head to the side as he regarded me again. "Then tell me, captain, why _are_ you here, doing what you do? Do you fear what would happen should he seize control? Life turned to death and wandering, restless ghosts? Does the thought of a twisted remnant of the Illefarn Empire continuing to exist simply _irritate_ you? Or is he hunting down _you_ specifically, denying _you_ what so many profess to want, a _normal_ life?" I couldn't say. I didn't have a definite answer.

"All of that. And more." I settled for. A raised eyebrow probed further. "He is evil, and he must be stopped. You said yourself what destruction he will bring if he is allowed to continue, and I suspect that no matter how bitter or twisted you've become you still believe that no innocent deserves the suffering he will bring." A slow, calculating nod. "That, and because of him I've lost my home, my scraps of a family, my friends, my peaceful life...and now Shandra. Oh yes, and because, through some bizarre twist of fate, I've a shard of silver lodged in my chest. Between the sword and the ritual there's no way this could end well without me fighting for it. Or at least that's what it looks like from here." A pause.

"That, at least, is a guaranteed motivation. It appears that once again I have underestimated you...and your resolve. Very well."

"And?" I pressed. He raised his eyebrows questioningly. "What about you? Is it just for revenge?"

"I wish to stop what the King of Shadows will bring because he is a threat to all of Faerûn. If we succeed the whole of the Sword Coast and beyond will be in our debt, yet none of them will know it. As I am sure you have understood by now, that is to be your lot: owed by many, praised by few." I closed my eyes in silent agreement. "Perhaps you may find it difficult to believe, but that, while simple, is truth. Whatever you think of my previous actions, it remains the case that desperate measures were needed to stop him so many years ago. And they will be again. More...more is saved this way. That is all that matters now."

"And like so many others you claim to kill the few to save the many?" Sacrifice was something I could understand. But not like this. He had killed so many people that deserved nothing of what this war brought.

"Yes," he said simply, "I realise it is an unpopular idea, but you must understand the true threat to this plane."

"Is that so? To me it simply feels like the fastest option, rather than the correct one. More can be saved in this war."

"Your...words tell me you do not belong in Neverwinter's service...but of course the choice is yours. Would you believe the same if I told you the one to be sacrificed is you?" For a moment I was lost for words. Of course that was before I realised I'd known it all along. And I already knew what I'd do, when I looked deep enough. So what if that was what the fates demanded? Would I refuse to sacrifice myself?

"No." And just like that the outcome of this tale was sealed in my eyes. "But unlike the villagers scattered in your path, I made a choice."

"And so you would happily die for this cause?"

"I doubt many people die happy. But I believe I could be one of them if it got the job done. If it came down to dying for this or hiding in a hole somewhere, then...there can be no question."

"I cannot yet tell if you are brave or simply foolish."

"A little bit of both, I've been told." A rare smile flickered in his eyes for a fraction of a second, and I spied the man before he was broken, the husband and father he had once been. In a moment the hard, unyielding mask was up again and he nodded firmly.

"Very well. What is our next move?"

"We...must gather our forces. Find allies, weapons, anything we can use that will make this fight easier." It seemed as logical as any other option. There was no set path anymore. I couldn't just hop from one lillypad to the next like I'd done beforehand. Now, as the cards piled up on the table, the only reasonable thing to do was round up more cards.

"You are correct. Even now, as I am sure you know, his presence extends from the Mere of Dead Men. The High Road is impassable, and before they vanished my scouts reported legions of shadows and undead within the Mere itself. A sphere of darkness expands from the head of the swamp, and kills all life it touches. Only—"

"...we can stop it?"

"Aye," he growled, "though not alone. My powers are weakened, my demons no longer bound to me. But still in this battle you shall have no stronger ally, in power or resolve, than I. Of course all this is not enough. A score of men you have, but that as well is not enough to defeat the King of Shadows." I closed my eyes, taking in the enormity of this task like never before. It all seemed too much for a simple farm girl. But I wasn't her anymore. Compared to the child I'd been a scant few years ago I was unrecognisable. I opened my eyes to see Ammon staring hard out the window once more, now towards the high west courtyard and in the distance north to Neverwinter. "You will need an _army_ to face him."

"Then an army I shall find," I said, as he turned to me once more with that cool, calculating gaze. "Whatever it takes. I will _not_ lose this war."

No more needed to be said. I bid him good day and left with a new fire in my heart that burnt for every man, woman and child that prayed for our victory. I wouldn't lose. There was too much riding on the outcome. Highcliff, Neverwinter, the Sword Coast...Faerûn...it seemed suddenly overwhelming, and, knowing how my frayed nerves could use a break, I tried to divert my attention to simpler things.

The new recruits had poured in over the past few weeks, and were dedicated to their training. Nevalle being around a lot more certainly made that easier, and he often invited me to their sessions as a demonstration. This morning I had been distracted, but I'd never let that affect my swordsmanship in the past. It took longer than usual to beat him. I wasn't sure if he was allowing me to win for demonstrative purposes or if his strengths truly did lie in leadership and not the blade. I'd never have the sort of commanding presence he did, anyhow, and in the right circumstances that sort of skill was worth a great deal more than brute force.

Those scouts weren't back yet, which was odd. They were expected to give an update on the situation to the south a day or two ago but hadn't even made contact with the border guards. Mentally I listed another four casualties. If I remembered correctly two of them had been brothers. The thought that it was one less family to inform was disturbing as it was undeniably practical. Though perhaps they'd just become lost. The forests down south were perilous to even those that knew their way around let alone...

I rounded a corner, nearly colliding with him, and my mind went blank for a few seconds before a wave of emotion hit me like a brick wall. I took a step back quickly and looked up at Casavir. His eyes were as deep as ever, inviting me to spend more time than I knew was healthy staring into them. Now, they begged me to speak to him. But he wasn't saying anything either. We both just stood there in silence, and slowly I realised why.

Her ponytail fell over one shoulder in a long, slinky rope of gold, two poker straight locks framing a classically beautiful face complete with clear sapphire eyes and the fair, peachy skin of the northerners. I'd barely noticed Katriona standing close beside him. I bet she didn't drink like a fish and curse like a sailor. I also didn't think she'd be the kind of woman to let her emotions run wild and take over her self-control, as it looked like she had the latter in bucketfuls. Why had I asked her to join us, again? Ah, of course, she was an excellent sergeant, Casavir had told me so and he hadn't been exaggerating, but she put one hell of a strain on my self-esteem. I felt black jealousy well up from somewhere in my gut and sidestepped the two of them before anything could be said, increasing the pace of my strides until I was certain they had continued on their way.

My cheeks burned crimson and I lowered my head so no one could see how frustrated I felt. So not only had my decisions killed Shandra, I'd alienated Casavir as well. In one day I'd lost the two people I knew I could always rely on. The others…they were friends, up to a point, but I couldn't confide in any of them. What I needed even more than an army was someone I could trust with my pain, my secrets, and my life.

For once, it seemed, I was in fortune's favour.

"Evie?" I hardly heard the voice from far across the courtyard, what with the storm brewing around my head. I looked up.

"Evie!" It was louder, now, and getting closer. I turned and took in what could only be described as a sight for _extremely _sore eyes.

"Bevil?" A smile was spreading across my face. He was alive. He was alive and suddenly a weight felt lifted from my shoulders. I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him close. He did the same and I could feel his laughter.

"You're ok!" He said breathlessly, "I knew you'd be ok, but…well I was starting to doubt I'd ever see you again." I released him, still smiling.

"I thought you were dead, after…" Pain shone in his eyes and he nodded slowly at my unspoken question.

"I know. I…I wasn't there, but I heard. That companion of yours – or so he says – told me that West Harbor was gone. Bishop. Heh. The 'cloaks I've met say Bishop's a liar, but…Evie, it's true, isn't it?"

"Yeah, Bevil." Telling him seemed to lighten the load even further, as if he was the one I had to answer to for not being there to help. "It's gone. They're gone."

"I'd heard about the war, you know. So I...I decided to don the Grey and do my part. To follow you. Georg was plenty steamed. But I kept thinking that West Harbor wouldn't really need me. Not as much you would, anyway. Near as I can tell, I must have left town just before…you know…before it happened. I remember how my ma cried when I left to find you. She…she said she knew she'd never see me again." The image of Retta's charred corpse resurfaced. "I told her I'd be fine. I told her I'd be with you. An' I guess I was right. But then…so was she."

"I'm so sorry, Bevil." My voice was close to a whisper.

"Ahhh, don't you be worrying 'bout me, Evie. I mean…well you've lost plenty of people you loved, same as me, but after all that you're still strong enough to command an army." He glanced around in awe at the Keep and the soldiers walking their rounds. I supposed it was sort of impressive. "An' if my little sis can do that then I'd better be able to pull it together too. For you, for ma, for everyone." I smiled shyly as I drew breath for a reply, but something suddenly struck me.

"Bevil…Lisbeth," I stuttered out. Sorrow began anew in his eyes and he gritted his teeth.

"Yeah…I guess they…killed her too…"

"No, no," I corrected, excitement growing as I realized for once I'd be the bearer of good news, "she's…well, she's here."

"You…what?" His face was blank with confusion, and I smiled.

"She's here. I arrived too late at the village to save anyone else, but she was there, alive. I brought her back with me a while ago." I remembered that hellish day with little pleasure, only holding dear the fact that I'd saved an innocent from the blazing ruins of my old life.

"What? Where? Can…can I see her?"

"Of course," I smiled warmly, taking his hand, "Come on."

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The reunion warmed my heart to no end. Here, personified, was all that I was fighting for. Lisbeth was thrilled to see her older brother, even if she would tease him to no end during times of peace. It was to my shame that I'd hardly thought of her since that morning with Casavir…

"Evie?" I snapped my attention back to the task at hand. "Lissie says she's supposed to be leaving tomorrow with some others. That right?" I'd almost forgotten.

"Yes...to Neverwinter. Most of the nonessential civilians are leaving. It's not safe here anymore, Bevil. Not for the soldiers, let alone for a child…" The party to Neverwinter had been delayed for several reasons, but at least it gave this broken family a small measure of happiness as they were reunited. "I mean you could go with them. You could stay with her, I…I could pay for--"

"Evelyn it ain't your fault." For all his simplicity in other matters, Bevil could see straight through people at times. I hadn't even realised I'd been trying to atone for the loss of West Harbour by making things right for the two of them, yet he said it all with a single glance. I thanked the heavens again for this source of stability in the downward spiral that was my life.

"Still," I protested weakly, "You could." He took a long look at Lisbeth before turning back to me, straightening his posture.

"She'll be all right for a while. I'm staying with you. I don't think she'd want me to leave you alone anyhow," he grinned, "if you'll have me, of course."

"I...well...yes, sure. You can stand a post or watch over some men, if you like, I mean Kana can probably tell you...something...more...about that..." Kana always had more to say. About everything. In a short time she had become the opposite to all that was serene in my frame of mind. Through all of that, though, I had to hand it to her – she sure did know how to run this place.

"Whatever you say, Evie. As long as you've got a place for me I'll stay with you. You have my word on that." His eyes were deadly serious and I acknowledged his vow with a silent nod.

An hour later and Lisbeth was abducted by Bertha to be Mothered to within an inch of her life, leaving Bevil and I alone, our legs dangling over the edge of the bed like we were children again. Silence prevailed for a while, each of us mulling over how much things had changed since we'd seen each other last.

"You're different, you know," he said finally. I looked up. "Good different. I mean...we're not running around the swamp killing Lizardmen anymore. You're a Captain...and I'm...well I guess I'm a recruit. It's not a bad thing, mind. I know I couldn't walk the path you walk or do all the things you do. Even just asking about you it's obvious how much your soldiers look up to you." He shook his head, "heh, guess I'd better start getting used to 'Captain Ashcroft...'"

"It's still me, Bevil. I know I've changed, but I'm still me. The title's just a title, and to you I'm still Evelyn."

"Still...I think I'd better stick with 'Captain' for my own safety." I raised an eyebrow. "You see, I met your lady Kana on the way down. Asked her about joining up. Made it _very_ clear how we 'cloaks are supposed to behave." I smiled, butting him lightly on the shoulder with a fist.

"I don't do half that stuff myself, so I don't expect you to. Annoys her to no end, but none of the soldiers seem to notice."

"Don't hate me, but I told some of the guards on the way here about some of the stuff you used to do, some of the trouble you caused. Called me a damn liar, they did." He grinned. "It's a different world here, Evie. Though I bet you could still figure out a way to beat me in a swordfight with both arms tied behind you." I grinned back at him.

"True enough. But no more of this defamation of my character, you understand? No more stories," I mock-scolded, "_Especially_ not the one with the pig, the yarn and the Mossfeld. And that block of ice. I'm pretty sure that one would make me lose every scrap of integrity I have left..."

"My lips are sealed, Captain." There was silence again, and I was reminded of how even our banter could never be so carefree ever again. We _had_ both changed so much, even if I didn't want to admit it.

"Thank you Bevil," I said finally, "Thank you for being here."

"Not like I could just sit around and do nothing, Evie. Not with all you've done for me. Still, can't help but think that things could've been so different. Like if your ma never came back to West Harbour to have you as a babe. Who knows where you'd be? And...and if I'd actually gone with you like I planned. I never wanted you to go alone, you know. I wanted to come with you, to fight with you like we'd always done. But course your dad said I had to stay..."

"Bevil," I asked instantly, "did you see him? Do you know where he is?" I'd been trying not to think about Daeghun. I refused to believe he was dead, simply because there was no evidence. Lisbeth said he'd left with Bevil, and then Bevil had returned alone before leaving again. Until now I didn't want to think about whether either of them were alive or dead.

"Don't know where he is, but I'm pretty sure he weren't there when it happened. He left when I did, even walked with me a ways before disappearing into the swamp. Didn't say a word about where he was going neither. Don't know about any survivors but I'm pretty sure your father's one of 'em." I breathed a sigh of relief. I hadn't even noticed how worried I'd been. My common sense told me that he would survive where no one else did, but my heart rarely listened to reason. That was becoming all too apparent.

"Thank you. And, well, seeing as you just got here you probably haven't had a chance to rest yet..."

"I'm alright, Evie. I'm supposed to start serving tomorrow, and I'm fit enough, so..."

"I don't mean physically." Understanding dawned. "I knew about...about West Harbour before you, I've had time to deal, but...are you going to be alright? You can start later, I don't mind." He shook his head, reminding me just how stubborn he could be sometimes.

"'Grief is best channelled into action,'" he quoted proudly, "that's what you said when Clover died. Remember?" I smiled at the memory. Bevil was twelve, I was ten, and we stood at the makeshift tombstone in memory of Bevil's puppy, his hand firmly grasped in mine as I solemnly said the very words he repeated back to me now with all the conviction of youth. How Clover had died I couldn't or wouldn't recall, but I remembered the moment clear as day. I comforted him then just as he comforted me now. I hadn't lost everything, like I kept thinking. No, I still had so much to be thankful for.

-+-+-+-+-

We spoke of happy, mindless things after that. Memories of better times reminded me just how lucky I'd been in my upbringing. Soon, however, it became clear that he needed his rest, and I'd told him so in no uncertain terms. We wished each other a good night and I left the Keep to stalk along the battlements. That always helped me to think. All the tiny people rushing from one place to the next, and there I was watching over all of them, just as the Gods watched over all of us. For once, standing there lost in thought, I made a decision. Forget about my destiny, whatever it was, forget about the inevitability of it all. Forget about all the doubt plaguing my every move. With that done, I could let myself stop thinking and just do what I knew was right. More things were at stake here than my foolish pride. I'd die by the end of it, I was sure. So what did it matter what he…what anyone thought of me? As long as I died _after_ I'd done my part, it wouldn't have been in vain.

Just like Shandra. I didn't shed a tear this time. Instead, I whispered a final prayer to her on the wind, and put her memory to rest. I would do this for her, and for West Harbour. I closed my eyes and wished for all of them to find the peace in the next life that they were denied in this one.

And now, to gather an army.

That day something inside me changed, and I refused to let myself be taken down by my own petty concerns. Lisbeth left with the others to Neverwinter, and Bevil soon had his own group of men to command. Bishop...well, he was still the very same. But no longer would I let him affect me. Casavir was a different matter entirely. It was to my shame that I was too afraid to talk to him again. By a week later I still hadn't said a word in his direction that wasn't an order. There was sorrow there, behind his eyes, but I tried not to think about it. I'd learned what was best the hard way, and soon he would realise it too, however much it pained me. I saw the way Katriona looked at him.

She was so beautiful. She never seemed as scraggly as I did, and always held that aura of composure about her. She knew her place, and followed orders with an unfailing efficiency. More to the point, she knew her own mind. She was everything I wasn't, and Casavir must have known it. He no longer tried to open up to me, and soon it was as if we were the same people that met so many months ago, the ever-present lieutenant at his side included.

Whenever I slipped and found myself looking into those disarming eyes of his, a wealth of unsaid words were laid bare, and every time I wanted to forget what a terrible idea it was and kiss him. Even if meant he pushed me away again. But I never did. And I knew I never would, for that ship had sailed.

Things were better off that way.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

Blade clashed against blade as she danced in the middle of a flurry of lighting quick, forceful strikes. The officer she faced didn't stand a chance. He was disarmed roughly, and the cold tip of her sword pressed against his throat in a matter of seconds from the start of the match. A neat, respectful bow and he was dismissed. Nevalle's voice hummed in the background as he regained the attention of the fascinated recruits, and as I turned back to where Bevil leant on the battlements he gave a high, impressed whistle.

"She's got better," he commented, "A lot better. Still fights the same sorta way, though. No one was ever fast as Evelyn."

I hadn't meant to stop here again, but this time the company was more than welcome. Bevil, the newest Greycloak, was eager to learn, to please, to help. I'd heard her talking of him in nothing but the highest terms before, and having met him he certainly lived up to it. He was shy and uncomplicated, but with a heart unsullied by everything that had happened to him, and with a pure, unfailing devotion to his new Captain that spoke volumes about their friendship. He'd watched in stunned silence the demonstration of her skill, having been drawn, like I had, to the small crowds dotted around on the battlements as well as the ground. She didn't seem to notice, or if she did she didn't care. She didn't seem to care about much these days except the task at hand.

Katriona had said something to that effect, and it annoyed me more than it should have done, as if it were some testament to her character, as if she were nothing more than all the other nameless leaders that had come and gone before. She was so much more, but no one could have come through the past year unscathed. I knew that much myself. Either you let yourself fall apart trying to take everything in, or you tried to stop thinking about every death and every failing. There was no real third option. I knew this as well. I just wish she'd talk to me about it. At least she had Bevil to be there for her.

"She used to be so different, you know?" Bevil said suddenly, looking straight at her though with his mind somewhere else entirely. "I remember when she was a kid and she used to try to climb trees and stuff in these dresses, and then spend the evening at my ma's to get them mended. Then she grew into this tall, skinny girl, with these bug eyes, and I still remember the day she joined the militia. And then...well, she got older, an' prettier, and soon she was dragging me to every dance and festival within ten leagues of the Harbour. She was...happier, back then, I think, but of course there wasn't much to be sad about. Although..." He wrinkled his nose as he tried to redirect his train of thought. "Although...I guess she's always sorta been the same, too. Always been a warrior, through and through. Hell, we all knew she was bound for great things – bigger than a swamp, anyhow – but I doubt even with all those storybooks of hers could she conjure up a thing like this. It's...crazy."

"Storybooks?" I couldn't help myself. Their life sounded a world apart from my childhood, and I was fascinated. It was hard to remember what she was like when I first met her, seeing her solemnity now, but somehow the image of a much smaller version, with the same wild red hair, hunched over a treasured volume and pouting as she read seemed about right.

"Heh, yeah. She always had her head in one book or another if she weren't out with me. Course most of the time I'd say it was for her...father." He bit his lip as though trying very hard to think of how to phrase his words so he offend anyone. "He was strict as anything when it came to her learning."

"He wasn't very...nurturing, I take it?" What little I'd heard of her father was coloured by the possibility that he was dead. There hadn't been much inclination on her part to talk about him, and I'd thought it was because of worry. Perhaps not. With no parents of my own of any description it was hard to make a comparison, but even I could tell their relationship wasn't in the best shape. Still, even if she didn't love him she certainly respected him. That was easy enough to see.

"She was plenty nurtured, just not by him. Least I don't think so. Difficult to say with that man. Didn't smile much. I don't even know how they got on together, seein' as the only time they spoke in common was so she could better argue with him." He shrugged, seeming to dismiss it as something he'd never understand. "Never could carry on a conversation with him longer 'n two sentences. I always said the man she brought home to marry would have a hell of a time. Her dad could stare down a brick wall. Course she never figured that day would come. Never had much luck with that sort of stuff, she did..."

I wasn't sure whether that surprised me or not. It seemed to take a lot to break her down. But then when I first met her, before all of this happened, it would be hard to think she'd have trouble with _anything_. Especially not love. In that respect, at least, we were alike. It was a matter of years since anyone had struck me as she did. No, that wasn't right. No one had ever affected me the way she did. Considering the circumstances I supposed it _was_ pretty pathetic. Especially now, as I still clung on to something that wasn't even there. I never _did_ know what was good for me. Or rather I _knew_ but refused to accept it.

Not for the first time I wished I'd just fallen in love with Katriona instead, like I was supposed to. Things would be so much simpler that way, because she was perfect for me. Or at least what _should_ have been perfect. Guilt surfaced every time Katriona smiled at me, for I knew I could never look back the same way. Of course I knew how she felt, and of course I'd done the only honourable thing and told her the truth, or at least what I thought the truth was at the time. I didn't even know my own mind anymore. I didn't know _what_ I wanted to happen.

Fiery hair whirled loose from its fastenings as she sent the blade of a lieutenant spinning through the air. Alright, so that was a lie. I knew _exactly_ what I wanted, but I was all too well aware of how impossible that was. Perhaps I was just a glutton for punishment.

"Something _is_ different, though..." Bevil started again thoughtfully, still looking at her, "It's her eyes. You know, when we were kids nothing was ever that serious with her. Wasn't much that she couldn't make a joke of, but I guess things change, huh? Something's new in her eyes, but something's...something's gone as well. I'm glad I never saw West Harbour destroyed, after seeing her now. Must've hit her hard..."

"It did," I replied simply, knowing that little elaboration was needed. I remembered that day with perfect clarity, and the days that followed as she lay unconscious, face contorted in pain. I remembered when she woke up, and the pure, naked vulnerability that shone in her face. And then she was up and back to duty, as if it had never happened. "But she never let it stop her. Not once."

"I...guessed as much. I mean I heard she killed my brother as well, and that...must've taken something."

"Lorne?" I remembered again that night in the temple, the regret in her voice about what she had to do. "Bevil, she had to. There was—"

"Nah, nah, it's ok." He shook his head sadly, and I supposed he must have known what happened. "I heard about the duel. And don't be forgetting I've known her a lot longer'n you and I know she wouldn't do it 'less it was the only way. 'Sides, I figure if he went along with that he wouldn't be the brother I remember. Thought he was already dead, anyhow. Same with 'ma."

"How did you hear?" He sighed and turned his back on the fighting, leaning heavily on his elbows against the battlements as he stared off into the south.

"Oh, rumours here and there. Said there was a girl involved, too, and not Evie. Something about kidnapping, monsters, the watch...all pretty jumbled up, everyone claimin' all different things. Guess I'd better get the whole story straight sooner or later."

"There was a girl. Shandra." It was still hard to believe she was gone. She had truly loved and been loved by the Captain. And then she was dead. I didn't know how the hells I thought I could have made that fact less painful for her. My attempt at comfort only seemed to make things worse. I wished there was a way I could just...take it away. Without more of those awkward, fruitless attempts at making her feel better. "They were close, the two of them, but...Shandra died a week ago, fighting." He shook his head, pursing his lips.

"Too many friends, she's lost for no good reason... Amie went down right in front of her, back when West Harbour got attacked. What started this whole thing..."

"Amie?"

"She didn't tell you? Eh, I'm not that surprised. She never really...dealt well with things like that. Hells, she was hard as steel when Amie died. I...I figured she grieved afterwards, on her own. Must've been easier." She'd never mentioned that name to me. In fact she barely spoke of the events that drove her to where she was. I wondered just how much she'd left behind.

"What happened?"

"Probably the same sorta thing." He was silent for a long while before turning to look at me, the pain of the memory written in his eyes. "Amie went up against someone far too powerful. A wizard. Got her life sucked right outta her. Her face...she couldn't understand...didn't understand what was happening to her." He shook his head, jaw tightly clenched, "You know, I don't wanna say this but maybe it's a good thing she died before West Harbour got burnt to the ground. Amie would never have run away, and she'd have died along side all of 'em anyway. At least this way she got a proper burial. Can't help but think it shoulda been me instead of her. I loved the village, never really wanted to leave, but Amie...well, her and Evie made plans to leave, go to Neverwinter, make a different life in the city. She deserved to live, to see more of the world." Something suddenly occurred to me. An image flashed in my mind of the bodies strewn around the once peaceful village. None of them had been given the last rites or a burial of any kind. She'd ensured a proper ritual for men she didn't even know in Logram's caves, and it was only right that her friends and family got the same. Soon, I promised myself, I'd do something to make it right. Soon.

"So...you and your sister are the only survivors you know of?"

"Don't know about her father, but I'm pretty sure he's alive somewhere. Other than that...I guess they're all gone. She said she saw most of the bodies, anyhow. Strange how things change once people are dead. She used to hate these three boys with a passion. None of the village liked 'em much, in fact. The Mossfelds were a nasty bunch. But I know she'd have fought 'til her last breath to save them." More names she'd never mentioned, more remnants of a past she was trying hard not to dwell on.

"Who were they? Just bullies?"

"Yeah, that's about right. Used to tease her all the time about one thing or another. Me too, though I was smaller back then. Heh, she _was_ pretty funny looking as a kid. Specially with that sword twice her size. Think she wanted to prove she was tougher'n they were, so she used to beat on 'em right back. Never cried or nothing around them neither."

"Never? Even when she was younger?"

"Well...there was this one time." A strange, faraway smirk appeared on his face, and he glanced back down to where she stood. "An' I'm begging you don't tell her I said this cos she'd probably cut off something I'd miss..." Part of me envied their easy, lifelong friendship, something I'd never had for any length of time. But hearing him speak of her with such adoration dispersed any such thoughts. I'd never begrudge someone the simple kind of joy she knew growing up, especially not now, after everything was so different and _nothing_ was simple.

"Of course."

"Couple years back...well, six or seven years, really...she got hurt pretty bad. Dead branch snapped, and she was high up enough to break her arm when she landed. Course the two Mossfeld boys around were the ones that baited her into it, and the second she started crying they laughed about it. Course once they figured she was actually hurt they ran like cowards. I found her trying to get up and got her dad, got her arm set an' everything. Those Mossfeld brats made a joke of it; figured it was just another reason for them to make her feel that she'd never be in the militia. Got her own back when she won the next four years sword fighting at the festival. Well, that and she pulled Wyl's arm clear out of the socket with her good one the next day when he tried to make fun of her sling." Bevil grinned, and I wondered if he was even talking to me anymore. It was becoming more of an interview than a conversation, but still it was fascinating listening to him talk about their childhood, as if he was suddenly transported back to happier times, something I never really had growing up. "Though she pretty much did something to that effect to most of the boys around that pissed her of enough, or got a little fresh one way or another when she'd grown up a bit. They all...they all seemed to have a thing for her. Even the ones that only passed through for a day or two."

That hardly surprised me. I glanced over to Bevil and smirked, "Did you?"

"For Evie!?" He looked as if I'd just suggested he kidnapped and ate small children on weekends. "_Gods_, no! I mean..." he quickly corrected himself, "...there's nothing wrong with her, she's pretty an' all. But that's, that's...I guess that'd be incest, or it sure feels like it. Hells she's still my baby sister far's I'm concerned, even though she's not two years younger. Never even thought about it, mind, and never, _ever_ will. I love her, you know, always will, but..."

"Not like that. I understand."

He grinned. "Nah, I don't think _you_ do. Not completely, anyhow." I felt my mouth drop open and closed it instantly. She'd told me he was far more insightful than people took him for, and this only seemed to validate that. "But then guess she's not thinking about stuff like that, what with that lass dying. Shandra, you say? Damn shame, that..."

"It did...change some things, yes."

"No kidding. I could see there was something off with her since I got back, and I guess that must be it. I don't really know. Never really understood her, anyhow, and I probably know her better than anyone _on_ this planet. I don't know how she does it. I…" he grit his teeth together and looked off into the darkening horizon, "I tried, you know. I tried to do the same thing she did, to go after her and help, but...I couldn't handle it. I...screwed up. I screwed up bad." He shook his head and let out a long, shaking breath.

"What happened?" He didn't answer. "Bevil?" As far as I knew he was a survivor of the attack who had made his way up towards the Keep. The last thing I wanted to do was interrogate him but I couldn't be too careful with the situation as it was. Of course I didn't suspect him of anything, but if he knew something...

"Please don't tell her. I caused some trouble, but it's already happened. Just...please don't tell her I messed up like this."

"I won't, but _please_, tell me what happened. It could be important."

"It's not," he sighed, crossing his arms and casting his eyes to the floor, "Least not anymore. It was a while back. They caught me, and...well, they tortured me. I told them everything, I...I don't know why, I just couldn't take it. I told them about her, about the shard, about where she was going...I tried to make things up but they always knew. They wouldn't stop until they had everything."

"Who was it?" I asked quietly.

"The raiders. That's how they knew about Evie. But...she tells me they're not a problem anymore, that she dealt with them without my help, even after I screwed up so much. That's why I'm here, I guess. After all I did there's no way I could sit back and let her handle everything herself. I want to help her...not just cos of what I did, but because she's one of the only things I have left. I hate that I've already failed her once."

She must have been just as remarkable back then to have inspired him as much as he did. But then again I supposed I knew that feeling well enough. Not only was I now glad that she had Bevil, but that he had her as well. They obviously cared a great deal about each other, and I prayed that he wouldn't be taken away like so many of her friends.

We talked for a while more about lighter things, long after the demonstrations were over and the crowd dispersed. The subject kept slipping back to the woman in question, but Bevil didn't seem to notice. He truly admired her, and was more than happy to reminisce about their childhoods. But I found after a time I couldn't keep my mind on the conversation at hand. I was worried about her, and it was eating away at me that there was nothing I could do. Or rather, nothing I wasn't too cowardly to do. As the sun slipped below the horizon I bid Bevil a good evening and returned to my quarters. My devotions that night were troubled and I couldn't concentrate on the words I spoke under my breath. I didn't know how much longer I could go on like this.

-+-+-+-+-

The sounds stopped, everything stopped and was as still and silent as death. The only things that could be heard were my pulse beating like a drum in my ear and my raspy, manic breathing as my lungs gulped for the thick air, saturated in death and rotting flesh, as if through a pinhole that got tighter and tighter until no breath came at all. Gradually it eased. Everything began to still. Slowly, the collection of inky black points of light swam in my vision until they became my still unfamiliar bedroom ceiling.

I thought for a moment that it had _all _been some horrific nightmare, and perhaps I was still asleap in my bedroom in West Harbour. But no, only the last few minutes, feeling like hours or days, had been a product of the workings of my mind.

I threw off the covers, the sudden movement chilling the sweat that covered my body in a sheen. I'd felt like I was burried alive under a ton of sand, thousands of granules, crushing me ever so gently, filling my throat as I tried to cry out. Just as all the people I was trying in vain to save slid through an hourglass as lives were snuffed out one by one like candles while all I could do was watch. None of them meant anything to the people that slaughtered innocents like cattle, and none of them ever would again. In years they would be nothing but dust, whisked away by the whims of fortune and lost to the ages.

I raised a shaking hand to my nose and realised the coppery taste in my mouth was real. I'd never before had a nosebleed that wasn't induced by my face being slammed against something. Somehow I made my way over to the basin of water that sat on the other side of the room and washed my ashen face, pinching the bridge of my nose and tilting my head back until the bleeding had stopped and staining a virgin white towel as I dabbed it clean. The woman staring back at me in the mirror was almost unrecognisable. That was happening an awful lot these days. I dropped the towel without thinking much about what I was doing and took four long, heavy steps to the window, breathing in the fresh open air like I'd been drowning for years.

Even those familiar, twinkling stars so far away felt like they were boring down on me. Every sound I made was amplified as if the very room I was in had shrunk to a tenth of its size. It was deathly quiet, and the emptiness I suddenly felt was as solid as the wooden frame I gripped with white, trembling fingers. No matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried, there would always be someone needing more. A soldier cut down on his first patrol, a family I'd never even met begging for help that would never come. Why was it my fault? I was a kid, I hadn't even seen twenty summers, and yet somehow this weight was still pressing down on my shoulders as surely as if I'd watched them die myself and did nothing. It all came back to that one moment months ago, when the knowledge that my entire past lay dead at my feet hit me like a stone wall. The massacre at West Harbour was something I'd tried to push aside to no avail, and now I was suffering for it when their faces visited me in my dreams.

The crushing weight of my empty room was too much. The dreams, the reality, everything...it hurt like hell. I had to go somewhere, anywhere but here. I desperately didn't want to be alone...I...I had to get out...

Without even throwing something on over the knee-length nightdress, I stumbled out of my room, walking like a zombie down the halls. It felt like I was drunk or something. I felt like sobbing though no tears would come. The hallways of this place were draughty and unwelcoming, even more so when shrouded in the bleak, grey darkness of this lonely night. I felt my way along the cold, unforgiving stone walls, the torches apparently blown out by the wind, and stopped when I reached a single pool of light.

Why was I here? I'd taken a random route through the Keep's quarters, not even visualising a destination, and somehow I was here. I recognised the place instantly, and it was like seeing my life choices set out before me in murky black and blinding white.

I stood there, at the apex of the two corridors that led to different wings and different bedrooms, both entirely different from the other. To the right was Bishop's, and I knew that if I visited him he'd give me exactly the sort of comfort I knew best. Everyone craved a little self-destruction now and again, I just didn't have much concept of moderation. He would let me indulge a darker side of myself, a way to forget it all, probably by creating even more problems to distract myself with.

To the left, was Casavir's. A knight in not-so-shining armour that I knew I could always count on...but I didn't know how I felt about him any more. I was quite convinced that he was too good for me in every sense of the word, having taken several devastating blows to my confidence lately. He had no reason to want anything to do with me now. But Bishop...he still had a strange kind of respect for me if nothing else, and if I knew him at all he'd never say no to a evening with me.

The night seemed to seep in from outside, chilling the air and weakening my resolve. I turned to look back at the path to my room, dark and forbidding at this hour. The dream came back to me in all its horrific intensity, and like a frightened child I quickly chose and made my way to his door, desperate for whatever company I could find.

-+-+-+-+-

I didn't knock, because I didn't want to wake him. Instead, I pushed the door open as quietly as I could and took a shaky step inside, closing it after me. I was half expecting him to be standing there, wide awake and in full armour, but instead he was sleeping, as everyone else was at this hour. Walking over with slow, deliberate steps, the stone floor freezing against my bare feet, I came to his bed and looked down at the Paladin. He was impossibly beautiful, even with his dusk-blue eyes shut against the moonlight that entered in thin shafts of silver through the curtains. He hadn't shaved since he'd come back today from a routine patrol he'd offered to go on, and the shadow only accentuated the perfect angles of his face. The men looked up to him so much, as a pillar of strength, of noble courage and goodness even as the world around them grew blacker. Alarmingly enough, I felt the same. That was why I was happy to see him watching me fight earlier, even if it made my heart wrench painfully. That was why I was here now, just staring at him and feeling the twisting anxiety in my stomach from the vision before melt away, replaced by an entirely different sort of anxiety. One I hadn't felt in a long time. It was incredible how much my opinion of him had changed since I'd first met him. There was a man beneath his nerveless, virtuous exterior that I still longed to know, though I doubted he wished to know much more of me after how I'd acted.

I sat lightly on the edge, watching the slow rise and fall of his bare chest and the stillness of the hand that rested close to me. His profile was like something etched in stone, and though I longed to feel his face beneath my fingers, I knew I couldn't. He was out of my reach now. There was a small mirror to my left, as per the rest of these uniformal rooms, and as I caught sight of my reflection it was clear exactly why. I was haggard, with dark circles under my eyes and hair that simply refused to stay in place, currently flying in every direction after a restless few hours of sleep, the once sleek waves ruffled into a static mop-head. There was a smudge of clotted blood beneath my nose, and I tried to brush it off. The twin scars crossed over my cheekbone, reminding me exactly who I was now, what I was like, and how defective and imperfect I was next to the light that was the man before me.

It was a mistake to come, I knew. He had pushed me away once before, and with good reason. There was no reason to think he'd want me now. I was just a broken little girl too far from a destroyed home who was still scared of nightmares. I tore my eyes away from him and stood up, seeing what I'd become in such a comparatively short amount of time flash before me as I moved to leave.

"My lady?" Came the smooth, husky voice from behind me that made my heart both plummet to my stomach and begin to beat at twice its normal rate. I turned my head back apprehensively and saw him wearily hoisting himself to a sitting position, squinting his eyes in the darkness. I suddenly felt such a fool. "Are you...all right?" His normal composure was lessened somewhat as he rubbed at his eyes and sat leaning on his arms, clearly exhausted. Well, it _was_ the middle of the night.

"I...yes...I just..." I said my next words to myself before I did to him, and it didn't sound any less pathetic. "I...had a bad dream..." His forehead creased and he motioned me over as he spoke.

"Just a dream? Was it a vision, perhaps? Or a premonition? A message?" There was still a hazy lack of focus in his eyes, which regarded me with a strange mix of concern and curiosity, but he was always on form. Always looking out for me and everyone else...

"No...or at least I don't think so. Just...just a dream." I chuckled to myself in an attempt to stop my face from burning in humiliation. If the soldiers of Crossroad Keep could see me now... "A...bad one." I finished lamely as if that could excuse all I was doing. He pushed back the covers and slid out, the hem of his loose cotton trousers skimming the floor as he approached me. I held my biceps uncertainly and looked down. I was always the one to make men giddy at my proximity, but now I was practically trembling, and not from the cold. He bent his head to one side so he could see my eyes and lifted my chin up encouragingly.

"Do you want to tell me about it...?" He was completely serious. With great effort I moved my head away to the side and tore my eyes from him.

"Look, Casavir, I'm not sure why I came here. I just woke up, and I was scared. That's all. I woke up and just...couldn't stay there. I didn't want to be alone. So...I came here. But it was a bad idea, and I'm sorry...I'm sorry for waking you up. I feel better now anyway...I'll...I'll just go..." I spun on my heel to flee as quickly as I could, but he grabbed my wrist and I stopped in my tracks.

"Wait...Evelyn..."

_Evelyn._

I froze. My own name from his lips was like the longest, deepest, most passionate kiss. It was the first time he'd called me anything but a title, and hearing him say those three syllables was a tender caress all on its own.

Suddenly I knew he'd never turn me away. I was always the one running.

I imagined what would have happened if I'd gone to Bishop's room, and in my mind's eye my senses were flooded as he pulled me into bed with him for a few thoughtless, ecstatic minutes, barely looking at me afterwards in case he felt something he didn't want to. As I looked back at Casavir, almost a full head taller than me, eyes so deep and always caring...I couldn't stop myself. I stepped into the circle of his arms and rested my head in the crook of his neck, relishing the warmth that washed over me as he wordlessly held me closer to him and I forgot the world. I was invincible there, and I never wanted to leave.

"Can..." My tired voice was no higher than a whisper. I felt myself becoming weak, and utterly dependent on him to support my body, but he didn't seem to notice as his palm pressed lightly against my back, the other hand stroking my hair near the point of my ear. "Can I stay here...tonight?" I felt like a child who was frightened of the monster in the closet. Now, I liked to think I'd impale the monster with my sword and purge the closet of evil with my brand new Blessing of Cleansing, but perhaps I wasn't so infallible after all.

The realisation wasn't as painful as I'd have thought.

He seemed to understand what I meant, for Casavir nodded against me, kissing my hair and murmuring 'of course'. At least here was one man that thought I was worth something. That I was beautiful. Somehow, at that moment, nothing else mattered. He took my hands and led me like a blind woman back to his bed, either not realising or thankfully not caring that he was still stripped to the waist as I slipped in, positioning myself against him. My head was perfectly comfortable against his shoulder as one arm encircled my back, the other holding mine tenderly as I finally let everything slip away from me and simply _melted_...

I didn't care how mad this was, I didn't even care how awkward it would be in the morning. After all, this madness seemed far better than that sharp, everlasting pain they called sanity. The even beat of his heart lulled me to sleep as he cradled me against him. It was the best night's rest I'd had in a year.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

It took me a while to figure out where I was, and why. All that I knew was that for the first time in months my sleep had actually been restful, and not just a way to recharge. Then the memories came flooding back, and I didn't want to move. Because then the day would start for real, and in the real world I couldn't stay here forever.

However much I wanted to.

He must have been awake, I realised, for his fingers, tangled in my hair, were stroking me almost absentmindedly. We'd barely moved since the night before, and I still lay with my head curled up on his chest, his arms wrapped around me like a shield that could protect me from everything in my turbulent life. He was so warm, and I couldn't remember a time when I'd felt more at peace. And then, suddenly, as my brain started to wake up more, I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what we were, or what last night even meant. _Did_ it mean anything? It wasn't like we... But then again, I'd never wanted to stay sleeping next to anyone as much as I did now. I'd never woken up fully clothed with a man before, but...something about it felt good. _He_ felt good. But it would have to end eventually.

I didn't think he knew I was awake. Or if he did he didn't do anything about it. I realised he still held one of my hands in his, and I curled my fingers around his palm as I shifted slightly. He froze, and lifted his other hand from my hair immediately. I cursed inwardly, as the gesture had been doing a great job of soothing my now frantic nerves. Oh Gods, what had I done... I'd appeared in his room in the middle of the night, frightened like a child, and invaded his already cramped bed. And now he wasn't moving, whether out of fear of putting me off or leading me on, I couldn't be sure. I wasn't sure of _anything_ these days. Even my feelings were one confused, conflicting mass that I couldn't deal with.

I opened my eyes, feeling my lashes brush against the bare skin of his chest, and inhaled deeply to calm my racing heartbeat. How late was it? I was facing away from the window, but I even _I_ could tell it was too bright for early morning. How...how long had I been here, then? And how long had he been lying awake, waiting for me? The stone of the wall in front of me made the entire room seem colder than it probably was, and made me want to move even less. I didn't want to get up, but knew it was too late to do otherwise.

What could I do? I tilted my head up to see his stormy eyes looking straight into my soul, just as they always did. I lowered my gaze instantly, not able to look at him for fear of...of what? I didn't know. I couldn't just stay like this, though. Rebelling against every other part of me, I used my free hand to push myself up, him letting go of my other hand immediately and moving over to give me room to sit. He sat up as well, opposite me, neither of us saying a word. His eyes found mine and for a timeless moment we simply stared at each other. He looked even more perfect than he did the night before, if such a thing was possible. His hair was scruffy from sleep, and the colours swimming in his irises alone could have captivated me for hours. And, well, there was the fact that I'd never seen him in the daylight with his shirt off. I felt like a young, stupid girl again, caught up in the madness of infatuation. His face was just as uncertain as I felt, but a lot more patient. I couldn't take this much more.

"Hey." My voice was far too loud, it seemed, and I cursed the heavens that that one, idiotic syllable was the only thing I could think of to say. I smiled weakly, and he did so in return, though nothing about the exchange was natural. This was beyond awkward. I wanted him to...do something. I didn't know what it was, but it needed to happen. This couldn't continue as it was. Something had changed, and for better or worse I wasn't sure. And _what_ it was that had changed was also beyond me. I wished that I'd never woken up, that I still had an excuse to curl up against him and taste peace like I did last night. I knew I needed to say something to clarify what in the hells was actually going on, but I couldn't bring myself to speak. I was too terrified I'd mess things up again. This wasn't like me at all. I'd never been scared to talk to men before, tell them exactly what I thought no matter how scalding. But Casavir was different. He was too important for me to lose like all the others.

Instead, I dumbly waited for a real answer that I knew wouldn't come.

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"Hey," I responded lamely. I'd never seen her look so uneasy, and wished I'd had the presence of mind to do the gentlemanly thing and _not_ trap her with my arms throughout the night. At least that might have spared her the awkward morning after that was slowly unfolding. "You alright?" She nodded immediately, looking down.

"Yeah...yeah I am. Thanks." Another moment passed. Not for the first time in my life I didn't have a clue how to handle things. I didn't understand what had happened, nor what was happening now. Last night things had seemed so much simpler. Her eyes darted to the door, then back down, as if she wanted to bolt. Of course I didn't want her to leave. I hadn't wanted the night to end, either, but then it hardly mattered what I wanted. It was...all for her.

It twisted my heart painfully, but I slid off the bed and stood up. She lowered her head even further, clenching her teeth before nodding and looking back up at me, her expression telling me I'd done the wrong thing once again.

"You're right...I should go..." She stood up as well and straightened her loose tunic as she strode to the door, her stance a testament to how uncomfortable the atmosphere had become. I followed her, as if it would make a difference, and could do nothing but watch as she reached for the door handle, face downcast.

And then she froze. Her head turned back round, and her intense, ice-blue gaze locked with mine. Suddenly, she leant up and planted another soft kiss on my cheek, pulling back before I had a chance to make anything of it. With one final, sorrowful look, she made for the door.

"Wait...Evelyn..."

"What is it?" I didn't have a reply, but luckily she didn't wait for one, "What do you...what is..." She broke off and turned around to face me again, her eyebrows knotted together in what was simultaneously confusion and torment. "What is this? What are we doing? I...I don't...what _are_ we? Is there even a 'we' or am I just delusional? Casavir, I..." She brought a hand up and dragged her hair back from her face in frustration, "I don't understand what this is. I don't know what you want me to do, if you even _want_ me to do anything, just...just please, tell me, or _show_ me, or...I don't _know_!"

She looked so frustrated, and yet so impossibly beautiful. Her hair was still wild from sleep, a faint flush making her cheeks glow and eyes shine. I knew I stood on the precipice of something incredible, something terrifying, and I could either back away like I'd done all my life or throw caution to the wind and do what I wanted for once. To hells with the consequences. If nothing else I'd...I'd know.

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"I...I can't deal with this," I went on, seemingly unable to stop now that everything I'd pent up for so long was rushing out, "I thought I could, but I can't. Not with you. I...just tell me..." I looked down, feeling a rush of prickles running up my nose. I was getting too emotional over nothing, again. I waited for him to say and do nothing, so I could leave and try to forget this. I knew I was foolish to think we had anything. Foolish for wanting so much something I'd never have, for burning bridges behind me...

His fingers slid around my neck, and I looked up immediately, silencing a gasp. His other hand encircled my waist as he took a step towards me, and I felt myself freezing up in anticipation, my heart pounding in my ears as he pulled me closer. Adrenaline soared through my veins, and all I could do was wait. A fraction away from my face and he stopped, eyes searching mine, taking in every detail as if he was afraid I'd suddenly disappear. A blade as sharp as mine would have had difficulty cutting through the tension in the air between us. His hot breath was so close, and I knew it wasn't the fact that I'd just woken up that made me feel so dizzy. And then, his lips found mine.

It was like a wave crashing over me, of relief and joy and ecstasy all in bundled into one confusion of sensations until all I cared about was the feeling of him pressed against me as I kissed him back with all the pent up aggression and desire I had. Explosions of colour and heat went off in my mind, and I pulled him closer. His kiss was hungry and searching like a drowning man taking his first breath of air, and I responded in kind. In that one small contact I saw everything I'd ever regretted washed away, as if none of it counted at all. Though I never wanted it to end, eventually, still darting forwards to catch one last taste, we parted. My nose still touched against his, and when I looked up into his eyes there was a light that hadn't been there before as he stared down in wonder. I was breathless, and for the first time in my life I felt my heart fluttering in my chest. I tried not to ask myself what it could mean. Thoughts only got in the way of things.

I smiled, and kissed him again. And again. Somehow, my back was against his rough, wooden door and my fingers raked through his hair, wanting, demanding more. The sudden release of tension was an awakening for both of us, and his eyes positively _smouldered_ whenever I caught a glimpse of them. The hand on my waist moved lower and slid around to my back as my tunic glided up, the feeling of skin on skin making me gasp against his mouth, I tried to ignore the hundreds of confused thoughts that presented themselves, like how was this happening, how could he want me, how could I deal with something like this ending...instead I let myself melt into the moment and concentrate on nothing but his lips on my face and hands gripping my clothes. My breath came quicker and quicker, and I was sure that his skin was likewise heating up under my fingertips. I kissed him harder, still afraid that, should we stop to breathe, he'd realise what a cataclysmic mistake this was. _I_ could have told him that. But as far as mistakes went, this one was proving worthwhile...

A knock, a jolt through my spine. I gasped silently and my eyes flew open to see him looking just as confused. The knock sounded again and I realised it came from directly behind my head. We stared at each other for a long, still moment. His pupils were larger than a few moments before, I was sure. After so much time wasted in ignorance, I wanted to kiss him again.

"Casavir?" I knew that voice anywhere, and though most of me was furious, the last remaining rational portion of my brain told me that Neeshka probably _didn't_ deserve death for the interruption. He looked at me uncertainly. "Casavir, have you seen Evelyn?" she asked again. I shook my head quickly, careful not to make a sound against the door.

"Uh...no, I haven't, why?" He replied in a quiet voice, probably to make her think he _wasn't_ standing a foot in front of her. I heard a frustrated sigh from her end.

"Well Nevalle's been lookin' all over for her. No idea why, won't tell anyone. Just says it's important. Checked her room already and the bed's been slept in but she ain't there..." Neeshka paused.

"Have you...checked the armoury?" Casavir asked in a stroke of genius. It was a huge place, and I could easily materialise around one of its many corners as Neeshka looked for me. That was, assuming I could gather the will to leave this room...

"Oh no, not yet. Good idea, though, I'll head there next. If you see her round, can you let her know she's needed in the main hall?"

"Of course." He hadn't moved from his position a few inches from my face. I heard Neeshka disappear down the hall, and relaxed my stance. For a few timeless moments we simply stared at each other again. And then he leaned forward, rested his forehead against mine, and we both smiled. I'd finally figured it out. He no longer looked at me like his Captain, like I only tolerated his presence, not relished it. And I no longer thought he was like every other frosty paladin I'd encountered. There were flames in his heart I knew were being stoked even as we stood in each others' arms, and I was anxious to see what they'd bring. Everything was perfect again. This felt so easy. It felt...good. There was no other way to describe it. I kissed him once more, feather light, breathing his scent in one last time before saying my goodbyes, asking him to meet me in the main hall in a few minutes. I slipped out the door with a final sly smile and headed to my room to put some real clothes on. No matter how much I wanted to stay I knew I was needed elsewhere. If nothing else I'd have this to look forward to again after whatever it was they wanted me to do was over with. After this whole thing was finished.

If I lived that long.

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Nothing on his face told me he had good news. His eyes were cold and hard, and spoke of many long, fruitless days past. Yesterday I no doubt would have looked the same. As it stood, however, I had much to be thankful for. Nevalle nodded a greeting as I came closer, Neeshka disappearing out of the door once I'd been delivered, and I inclined my head in return. The hall seemed far too big for just the two of us, and I was relieved the moment I saw Casavir slip in through the door and stand a respectful distance behind.

"Captain Ashcroft, it is good to see you well." His voice seemed to echo in the overly large hall, and the blue uniform he and all the Nine wore made him seem taller than he actually was.

"And you, Sir Nevalle, but I suspect you did not come here to say that."

"Aye...as bad as the news is..." He cleared his throat and straightened, "No doubt you have heard Fort Locke has fallen," I nodded, remembering how, though I'd been aware the messenger was telling the truth, I hadn't quite taken it in at the time. The enemy was advancing, I'd have to lead an army...Gods... "Lord Nasher has summoned you, Evelyn. You are to report to Castle Never at once."

"What does it concern?" I already had an inkling that this was going to be another blisteringly formal briefing, and though I _really_ wasn't in the mood I couldn't exactly ignore a request from the man whose Keep I commanded and who paid my salary. I couldn't tell if I hated that or not. Of course I resented being under his thumb so, but part of me knew I could do a lot worse. And that I should be grateful for everything Neverwinter had given me. Nevalle seemed to think the same, for he bristled at the question.

"_That_ is not mine to say. As a Captain of Neverwinter you must heed the wishes of your Lord, not ask such questions. His request cannot wait, and you are expected to make haste to the Castle. If not, you will be replaced before twilight." It was written all over him that he was tired and hardly in the mood to speak let alone give orders, but it didn't stop me from wanting to tell him exactly where the Lord could stick his 'wishes'.

"I'll leave at once, then." I bowed my head, and Nevalle nodded, eyes closing.

"We must ride fast, and go straight to the Castle. Lord Nasher is expecting you." A strange, pigeony man with a too-large head drained of all colour chose that moment to enter, eyes lighting up as he caught sight of the small group assembled.

"Oh! Captain, at last! My lady, I have been waiting for some time to have an audience with you, and –"

"The _Captain_ does not have time for this. Whatever it is you want can _wait_ until she has returned from more pressing business," Nevalle snapped.

'_The Captain is growing more and more agitated with everyone thinking they can run her damn life for her...'_

"I...oh, er...right, sorry, I'll just..." He fled the same way he'd arrived, and I was left wondering at his intentions.

"Make haste, Evelyn, and come _alone._ This does not concern your companions." Instantly, a cool blanket of dread settled over me.

"What?"

"This involves you and you only."

"With all due respect, Sir Nevalle, what concerns me also concerns them. They would not be my companions if it was otherwise. Besides, what should 'one more face in the crowd' matter?" Nevalle's eyes slipped over my shoulder to see Casavir, and he sighed.

"As you wish, though I would ask that it be him and him alone." I nodded in response, and Nevalle turned on his heel and left without a backward glance. This seemed like more than a simple briefing...what could Nasher possibly have in store for me?

"What do you suppose he wants?" Casavir asked, mirroring my thoughts as he took a few steps closer. I shrugged helplessly.

"Wish I knew. We'd better leave, though, and soon. Patience seems to be in short supply these days." He moved to put an arm around my shoulders, but it was dropped quickly as the main door swung open again. It was only a guard on his rounds, who barely acknowledged the pair of us, but it was as clear an indicator as any that now meant _now._ I gave him a helpless half-smile and, reluctantly, we left for the stables.

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Nella was fussing even more than usual as I slowed her to a walk around the narrower path as we approached the stables to the side of Castle Never. A youth ran to meet us, and I dismounted, feeling a familiar dread well up in my stomach as my feet touched the cobbles. Something was amiss here, and I didn't know what it was. Of course my gut had been wrong before, but this felt more like _instinct_.

"Hush, girl," I muttered, hugging her neck and stroking back her long, straw-coloured mane. She made a strange grunting noise, and looked almost distressed as I handed her reigns to the apprehensive stableboy, as if she felt the same unease that I did. Of course I didn't imagine Neverwinter was planning on having me locked up or something equally dramatic, I trusted them as well as I could, considering the circumstances. Rather…something else was wrong. And something was going to happen that I knew I wouldn't be at all happy about. With a grunt, Nella swung her head around, slipping her reigns from the hands of the stableboy, who quickly took a step back. I recognized him from several visits, and let myself smile inwardly at how quickly they'd learned to keep a sensible distance from my eternally impatient mare. I sighed heavily. It was probably just nerves welling up again, and nothing to be worried about. I'd never enjoyed such 'audiences' anyway…

"Feeling alright?" I almost jumped at the sound in the otherwise silent courtyard, and turned quickly to see Casavir looking at me, somewhat perplexed, as his own, much calmer horse was led away. I nodded slowly, both of us well aware of Nevalle and several other Neverwinter soldiers arriving just behind us.

"Just glad you're here, that's all. Something…doesn't feel right. But, heh…probably not the most useful assumption considering all that's been happening recently…" He nodded thoughtfully, and as the others caught up, he began to walk with the other soldiers and knights, blending in perfectly. None of them said anything, and so neither did I, simply taking his presence as a comfort like I had in the past.

"It'll be over soon enough, you'll see," he said. I would have had a scathing reply on the tip of my tongue had it been anyone but him. But from Casavir, I knew such a stock phrase actually meant something. It _would_ be over soon. All of it. There wasn't much time left in which it could be prolonged. And whatever this was(,) it would only be a momentary annoyance alongside many, many others that piled up one after the other. Though perhaps not _all_ aspects of this life I led were bad…I thought back to this morning and made a conscious effort stop myself from smiling.

The great, oversized doors were pulled open as we approached the castle, and I tensed up immediately. Lining the walls were guards, and inside stood a crowd of people I didn't recognise, wearing clothes I could never afford. What was this? Silently, trying not to look around too much, I followed Nevalle into a smaller room adjacent to the main hall, catching sight of Nasher still sitting on that strange throne of his in the next chamber. Everyone looked so very pleased with themselves that I didn't know where to look or what to do. It was like they were about to tell me that the whole thing had been a ruse, a test that I had passed with flying colours, and now the real fun could begin. I shifted uncomfortably in my scuffed leather boots and scratched, hastily donned breastplate. The murmurings in the hall silenced as Nevalle cleared his throat, having retrieved something in a deep, lush shade of blue from a nearby chest. I wasn't sure I liked where this was heading.

"Darkness grows to the south, Captain Ashcroft," Nevalle started, lifting his chin and speaking in that slow, commanding tone I recognised as a show for the easily entertained, the same voice I'd put on when shooting down that witch Torio in the trial so many months ago. This couldn't be simply for my benefit, after all. I'd have liked to think he knew me better than that. "And Crossroad Keep is our greatest defense against the army of the King of Shadows. You have been instrumental in bringing this about, and you will play an even greater role in the war still to come." What in the hells was this, a pat on the head? "Fort Locke is likely lost for good, but not all tidings are ill," he strode forward slowly, extending his arms to me in an indication to take the material cradled in them, "this is yours to wear, and to wear proudly."

It must have been a cloak, judging by the shape and size. Humming with magic as well, I realised as I collected the ocean of fabric form him. Well, perhaps this wouldn't be so bad after all. I could always do with new equipment, though the whole _ceremony_ seemed a little much…

"It is the garb of knighthood, and soon Lord Nasher will make you a true knight in his service." I almost choked as the shock thundered through my veins like a burning chill. A knight? They wanted to make _me_, a swamp girl, a knight of Neverwinter. Sune, this was too much. It seemed so impossible, and not because it was some dream finally being realised, but because I was...terrified. What would this mean? I imagined myself thrust into a world of nobility, with unspoken laws, painful dress codes and way too many forks. I...I just wanted to be a fighter. A Captain was just about acceptable, but...this? How...how could they...and without even asking...I didn't know whether to be flattered or appalled. Nevalle was beaming at me proudly. So was everyone else in this blasted room that I could see. I didn't even have a choice, did I? I gritted my teeth and lowered my eyes.

"Thank you, Sir Nevalle." I was surprised at how calm and level my voice was. I must have been getting rather good at forgetting who I was for the sake of these things. I tried to tune out his voice as he went on about the need for heroes in such dark times. I knew exactly what my 'achievements' were, and they were nothing I could have done by myself. Of course this was an honour, but not one I deserved. Or wanted. And yes, as he was saying, it was a beautiful cloak. Made from the finest materials, woven with the finest enchantments. I bet it even billowed dramatically in the wind. It was a fine gesture, but I hated it. I hated that not once did they think to ask me about any of this. Yes, I'd agreed. I'd _had_ to agree. I could imagine the reaction if I made any sort of protest, and it wasn't pretty. Perhaps once this 'ceremony' was over with I could explain to him and Nasher exactly why it was a terrible idea to make me a knight. I was just starting to be content as a Captain, and now they wanted to tag 'knight' on as well as if I wasn't enough of a mockery of my former self. If my inner child could manifest in front of me, she'd point and laugh at how quietly I was taking this.

"...come now, Evelyn, let us make our way to the Great Hall. Lord Nasher awaits." I bowed my head and didn't say a word, cursing the situation all the while.

And then, suddenly, the second I entered the main hall panic gripped my heart in a vice. Nevalle was still speaking but I could barely hear him. Something was wrong. I whirled around just in time to see a metal grate crash down in front of Casavir, separating Nevalle, myself, and a scattering of nobles from the rest of the group. A strangely melodious yet alarming _noise_ rang out from nowhere, and I turned back to see wraiths and vampires appear from the mist that had inexplicably found its way in. Over the sound of weapons drawing and people screaming I heard a few choice words from Nevalle. Alarm, attack, Nasher, defend. Well, that told me enough to be useful. I shoved a noblewoman behind me and charged, channelling what cleansing powers I could into my otherwise ordinary blade.

Casavir's voice behind me was a great comfort as I fought, almost as great as the magic it commanded, and I fought without fear. Nevalle was surrounded, but I knew better than to come to his aid. Through sheer bad luck it seemed as if we were the only _living_ creatures in the hall that knew which end of a blade to hold, and there were far more enemies still to deal with. I kicked a vampire in the chest with a cry of rage, and she fell back into several others. Not waiting for them to make a move, I thrust out my arm and willed a nova of light to come crashing down on the creatures here. There was a bright burst of white and I squinted as three were dusted and the two left writhed on the ground, the sizzling of their flesh clearly audible. If nothing else, the Illefarn sure did know their magic. The remaining wraiths were weakened, and with a spell from Casavir they were easily dispatched.

"We can't stay here!" Nevalle said, turning to face me even as he pulled his blade from a quickly disintegrating corpse. "'Round the corner from here there is a guard hall. It's more defensible, and better protected. I'll take the civilians, you follow after." I barely had time to nod dumbly before he was gone. This had all happened so quickly that I wasn't entirely sure it was happening at all. But I couldn't follow him just yet.

I turned to see Casavir looking more helpless than I thought was possible. The bars separating us would still be standing long after the castle was rubble, and we both knew it was useless to try and get past them. I hurried over, acutely conscious of the battle still raging on in the throne room, and gripped the bars in frustration.

"I have to go," I said, as if he hadn't heard Nevalle's orders. His hand covered one of mine and I felt my energy rushing back, the now familiar sensations of Tyr's blessings washing me of the battle's fatigue.

"I know. I'll...do what I can from here. I'm sorry I--" he broke off, and I smiled sadly, knowing that were our positions reversed I'd be banging my head against the damn door to stop him from going on alone. Now, I finally understood what that look he always had in his eyes was, and once more I regretted all that time I'd spent oblivious. But there wasn't time for this.

"I know." And with that I tore myself away from the bars and ran after Nevalle. I could sense the spirits and undead now infesting this place, and wondered how in the hells they'd found a way in. And on _this_ day at _this_ hour as well. Skidding round a corner, I saw Nevalle surrounded by small piles of dust and rags as he spoke to a collection of hysterical nobles. He raised a hand to command silence as I entered, and a soldier, no doubt surprised to find that duty in the guardroom was occasionally exciting, bolted the door behind us. Nevalle took a deep, tense breath and let it out in a sigh.

"The castle has been entirely sealed," there was a sob from somewhere behind him at this information, which he smoothly ignored, "It is part of the ancient defences of this place, built for when the castle is in serious danger. It is...something I never thought I'd live to see. And of course...you saw that Lord Nasher is now cut off from us."

"There must be a way around the defences. We have to get to him, I mean if he's killed..." I let the heavy and unpleasant implications settle in.

"There is a tapestry in the hall. Behind that should be an entrance to the equally ancient Neverneath, chambers below Castle Never that are said to open for defenders of Neverwinter should the Castle be in danger."

"Alright. I'll stay here, try to hold them off, and—"

"No, Evelyn, _you_ must go."

"What?" I gaped, "Nevalle, it's not about the danger it's about..." It probably wasn't the best thing to say, but at least this would be true, "it's about the fact that _you_ are the only member of the Nine here, and therefore probably in a far better place to be named a 'defender of Neverwinter' than I am. What if...what if it won't let me pass?"

"It will. I know it will, for your heart has proven its strength many times over. You _must_ make your way through the chambers and to Nasher's side." How, exactly, did he know that? My heart, as far as things went, was a confused, terrified little thing that couldn't take this constant adrenaline rush much longer. But, as usual, I caved.

"Al...alright. Is there anything else I should know about?"

"Little is known about Neverneath, save...save the rumours. It is the resting place of Lord Halueth Never and the first Nine. Their duty was such that...even in death they guard him still. Interpret that how you will, and I pray for your sake that your passing will be a simple thing."

Nothing was ever 'simple' these days. But there was little I could do, as usual. Gripping my sword, I left to face Neverneath.

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This place seemed so quiet, what with the battle raging outside. The huge stone blocks that made up the dimly lit corridors below the castle made it seem even more like a crypt, and the air was heavy with age-old secrets and mildew, thick like a steam house where it should have been cold and empty. Somehow, there wasn't a speck of dust on the floor, even though the place looked like it had been undisturbed for long enough. It was _too_ quiet, I decided, and this situation was so bizarre that I could barely wrap my head around it. It reminded me of my vigil in the Temple of Tyr, and unconsciously my posture straightened. I felt thousands of long-dead eyes scrutinising my every move even though I was physically alone in this place. And that statue up ahead, standing to attention in a bright pool of light, was _definitely _staring at me. I took a step forward and a voice boomed from the still, stone mouth.

"Be aware that you approach the sepulchre of Lord Halueth Never." Yes, Nevalle had made that abundantly clear. Only it hadn't quite hit me yet that I was standing in the tomb of Neverwinter's founder. That would take a little more time to sink in... "My duty in life, and my pact in death, is the defence of this castle I built with my own two hands. Continue onward and your loyalty to Neverwinter will be tested." There was that word again. Suddenly I was incredibly homesick for my little swamp village, where ancient statues didn't look at me accusingly and great Lords didn't need saving and 'or else' didn't involve the destruction of the known world. "Friends of Neverwinter have naught to fear. To those who are foreign or enemies of Neverwinter, be you from Illusk, the Wilds or someplace unknown – your presence will be cleansed."

I gritted my teeth. So, foreigners weren't even given a chance? Nevalle had certainly thought me capable enough, even if I didn't have the _privilege _of being born and raised in Neverwinter. Did the Mere count as the Wilds, I wondered? I lifted my chin and glared at the statue as if defying him to find fault with me as I stood. I'd show them all what a poor little swamp girl could do...

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I hated memphits almost as much as I hated being quizzed by a Lord who had spent more time _dead_ than the combined human population of the city had spent _alive_. I didn't have time to waste on such simple trivia, and the questions irritated me to no end. What in the hells did my _knowing_ about Neverwinter in any way prove my devotion? I couldn't have told anyone how old West Harbour was or any of that nonsense, yet I was far more loyal to my own village than I was to this place. I tried to turn my thoughts to more Neverwinter-friendly things, as I was well aware that my very thoughts could be being tested. But I couldn't stop myself from being angry at such an idiotic, wasteful procedure.

The eighth statue loomed up before me and I waited for it to speak, willing this whole charade to be over with so I could give this place some _real_ help and save its Lord from imminent death.

"You have been proven to know Neverwinter. But for Neverwinter to know you, you must declare your loyalty to her." It was silent again, but still _there_, as if it waited for a response. So...so that was what it would take? I grit my teeth together in frustration, feeling unwanted emotions swell up that had no place while a sword was in my hand.

"I..."

Could I do it? Could I swear my loyalty to a _place_ like that? It would be easy, so easy just to say the words and follow through by saving Lord Nasher, but I found myself just staring at the statue's hard eyes mutely. After this they wanted to make me a knight, and then there would be no stopping it. I...I hated everything about this. I wished I could just do this so-called 'duty' of mine and have nothing to thank but my conscience. How simple it must be for those who have nothing else guiding them to latch onto a set of laws like the ones being forced upon me now, and live their lives in blissful servitude. I followed no one's laws but my own. It just so happened that in most cases they coincided with what was best.

And what, I demanded of the statue, was so wrong with that? Why did they demand I vow to do what I knew in my heart was right? '_Just like Neverwinter__'_ I snarled in my thoughts, '_I'll...I'll take your damn vow, if that's what it takes. If that's what I have to do to prove to you people that I'm here to do the right thing..__'_

"I...I declare my loyalty...to Neverwinter," I said in as clear a voice as I could muster. There were long moments of silence as the statue's dead eyes seemed to flare into life, looking straight through me and into the depths of my mind. '_Please...just let me make this right...let me save Nasher and _finish_ this war...'_

At length, it spoke, "So be it," and something descended upon my shoulders, heavy and suffocating, and I knew that in this place such oaths had a power I couldn't imagine. '_Grow up,'_ I tried to force myself not to let the ridiculous tears that welled up spill down my cheeks, '_grow up and accept that the world demands...sacrifices. Such is the life you chose.'_

No, nothing about this was a choice. I _had_ to save Nasher, and that wasn't the _damn_ oath talking.

"This castle bears witness to your fealty. Protector of Neverwinter, take your place among us." Among the dead, who served even in their tombs..._ fantastic_. I didn't care about being part of a grand tradition. I didn't care if my name was revered or reviled after I was gone. All I'd ever wanted to do was save my village, then the city, now the whole bloody sword coast. But of course that's what any aspiring knight of Neverwinter should jump to do. Heavens forbid I should consult my conscience instead...

The door behind him slid open, and, sensing the end was near, I entered.

It was circular, and even as I stepped inside the whispers of spirits were nearly deafening as I felt them swarm around the disturbance. Nine statues stood in an eternal vigil around their dead Lord, standing proud even in the afterlife. Where was that light coming from? When I glanced up at the ceiling there was nothing but cold, dead stone, as with everywhere else. And yet the unmoving figures were illuminated, every harsh detail of their carved faces picked out in shadows.

It was only then I noticed the eight blades hovering before me, following my every move as though they themselves had eyes. Stalking around the near identical statues, keeping a well trained eye for any traps, I came to one opposite the great tomb at the centre, though unlike the others this one was facing away. Confused, I crouched to read the inscription below his feet. Talven, he had been called. The rest was hardly helpful, but then very little in this place _was_. I'd never heard of him, and doubted many outside the castle's libraries would recognise the name. Casavir's comments many months ago as we stood before the resting place of knights slain hundreds of years previously came back to me, and I finally understood how he'd felt. Did anyone care about the crusade of these Nine? About _their_ sacrifices and battles? Would anyone record my life, from the Harbour to the Keep and through to the end, wherever that may be? Would anyone read my tale and wonder, after all was said and done, if it had been worth the cost? The blades were still pointing at me, as if I hadn't proven enough to these people and spirits alike.

A quick check showed me there was no obvious way through the large stone door that was clearly the exit from this place. Great, even more puzzles. I turned back and glared at the ring of statues. The swords, in formation, parted and faced up, leaving me with a clear path to the tomb I'd avoided looking at until now. Graveyards and such had always made me uneasy. It was hard enough to accept that people were gone without having to imagine their rotting corpse under the earth. But this man...this Lord Halueth I'd read so much of in my youth...he was still very much here. Still protecting this place beyond his dying breath. My steps echoed in the underground chamber as I approached, gingerly placing a hand on the robes carved from stone.

What a burden. To not only have founded a city but to watch over it still, all of those clueless souls hurrying from one place to the next, living and dying oblivious to everything outside their city gates. If the storybooks were to be believed, they were saved from imminent destruction once or twice a week by some hero or another. New threats arose all the time, greater and deadlier, and yet only a handful of adventurers were known by those they gave so much for. And I knew I'd be one of the nameless, one of the 'Protectors' of Neverwinter who were praised by all but remembered by few. I liked to think I didn't care so much – as after all I was hardly doing this for the fame – but the thought still didn't sit easy with me. I knew people's lives were more important than their good opinions, but the latter was always nice. Now it seemed that there was an endless list of complaints reaching my ears, as if I hadn't already given up everything and more for a cause I had nothing to do with.

The scar on my chest itched. No, not nothing. I had everything to do with this battle, whether I liked it or not. Things would become clearer once Gith's silver sword came together once more. And I'd be the one to wield it. Everything was so very convenient, it seemed. My village destroyed the moment I needed a little extra motivation, Shandra dying the instant she became expendable, and now this little expedition below castle Never. In this cold, dead place, cut off from the outside world, it was easy to become distracted and forget that the welfare of a city counted on my getting through that door as fast as I could. Chastising myself, I turned my attention back to the matter at hand. Clasped loosely in the statue's hands was something that definitely didn't fit. I ran my hand across its surface, and it seemed to flare into life. Shocked, I took a step back, and once more a voice resounded around the place.

"The Nine are assembled and one duty remains for me. I bequeath this, the Rod of Never, to the new Lord of Castle Never." He sounded...tired, if that was possible for someone already long dead. I wondered if even he thought all of this, all the sacrifice, if...if it was worth it. "Deliver it to him that he may use it to protect Neverwinter from its savage enemies." Ah, there was that loving touch of racism once more. I grasped the rod and carefully pulled it from his grip, marvelling at the weight and craftsmanship of the thing. The sound of stone grinding against stone told me the door was open. There was no time to waste. Giving one final, pondering look at the eight hovering blades, I headed for the exit.

"Though the Rod of Never may leave my grasp," Halueth's voice made me jump as it boomed out again, and I turned my head back round to look at his stone figure, bathed in light, "it shall not go far. Only the Lord of Castle Never can use the Rod, and only while within these walls." Well...that seemed unnecessary. Unless he thought I was going to try to steal it after that oath. That thrice-damned oath...

Without another look back at the now plundered resting place of Neverwinter's first Lord, I hurried on to save the day.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

The Shadow Reaver recoiled in pain and finally dispersed, hissing a final, rasping curse. I'd booted open the door to see Nasher struck down by the creature of pure darkness and had wasted no time in charging forward, even as the ancient defences lifted and soldiers came to our aid. Nasher had got back on his feet almost at once, and was now being fussed over by a healer who was waved away irritably.

"_Assassins_," he spat, sheathing his sword, "they sent _assassins_ here, to the castle." He shook his head angrily even as the aforementioned assassins lay defeated. The man had singlehandedly fought back a _Shadow __Reaver_...and there was barely a scratch on him. He couldn't have been like those other lords who did nothing while others toiled for their benefit. For that, at least, he'd have my respect. "Our enemy fights as a coward – with shadows instead of cold steel!" ...Though it seemed he was still in the class of nobility that hadn't quite realised the Rules of Engagement didn't apply in a real fight. You couldn't expect your enemies to have any respect for you or the dictates of honour, especially not when they were born from shadow. I could be a real dirty fighter when it was needed – I thought it was an asset but also something Nevalle was slowly trying to discourage. As if that would make me any more suited to knighthood...

"You are unharmed, sir?" Nevalle asked as he hurried in to find the battle already over.

"Yes, yes, I shall be fine. That was...an impressive stunt, girl..." He turned to face me and I shrugged, looking away.

"Couldn't have done much else, in all honesty. Hardly anything can hurt them." I tried to act flippant, but Nasher didn't seem to notice. I suppose the powers the Illefarn had granted me _were_ fairly impressive when deployed against the very creatures they were created to destroy. I relaxed my posture further in a last-ditch attempt to illustrate that I was _not_ knight-in-shining-armour material. I doubted it would work.

"And yet...you have shown today that they are _not_ invincible, as they once seemed..." He looked at me thoughtfully and seemed about to speak when his eyes flicked to my belt and what was holstered at the side. "Is...Is that the Rod of Never I see? Let me look at it..." Obediently, I handed it to him and he turned it over in fascination, running his fingers along the grooves in the strange metal. "I had heard that the Rod was in Neverneath, but of course none have been able to enter Lord Halueth's tomb. Until now." His gaze turned to me, pensive and appraising. I looked away again, hoping he didn't think the tomb opening was anything to do with me. I mean, the alarms had gone off at the same time, so surely that was proof enough that at the time anyone who was simply rather _fond_ of the city could have entered the tomb to help protect it. I...I was nothing special. I certainly wasn't a knight, although now that I thought about it, what difference did it make? I was sworn to protect the city, and not being knighted wouldn't change that. Still...nothing about it sat easy with me.

"It seems, then, that some good has come of the attack after all," he started again, "I have heard tales that with the Rod some of Castle Never's oldest secrets may be unlocked. Let us hope they can be of aid in this battle to come." Nevalle came to stand beside his Lord and the two of them regarded me thoughtfully. I shifted and toyed with the pommel of my blade. I wish one of them would just say 'dismissed' so I could run home and lick my wounds in peace. I bet they thought I'd be so proud to take my place among Neverwinter's finest. My grip around the hilt tightened. "I believe this enemy of ours fears to face us on the field of battle – he fears to face Neverwinter and all her defenders and knights."

Somehow I sincerely doubted that, but didn't say anything. Again.

"And that now includes you. Captain Evelyn Ashcroft, you have earned this through your deeds – the title of knight, in service to Neverwinter."

"But...I..." I heard the objection voiced even before I realised it had come from me. Nasher's eyebrows shot up, as if daring me to go on. I steeled myself, and for one moment tried my hardest to forget where I was, what had just happened, and exactly _who_ I was talking to. "I...I'm already a Captain, sir. Is that...not enough?" It seemed more than enough to me, but apparently I was the only one in the room with that opinion. Nevalle looked as if I'd just offered to buy his Lord a wench for the night, and Nasher's wiry, grey eyebrows crashed together like waves in a storm as his expression darkened.

"If you refuse this, Captain, then rather than a knighthood, I'll mark you a wanted criminal, throw you in irons, and pardon you only in exchange for your service," he snapped, clearly not used to being refused. I stiffened, clenching my jaw to stop my fifteen year old self from arguing back. I felt the hand around my sword hilt start to shake with rage. "This is _not_ a request, and I am not _asking_ you for your permission. Do not try my patience any further, Captain Ashcroft. This is an _honour_ for anyone to receive, and one that you should be grateful for." I bowed my head, half in submission, half to hide the anger I felt smouldering behind my eyes. The Lord of all of Neverwinter, known for his wisdom, his good graces, and his fairness, was acting like a spoilt child. I tried to tell myself it had just been a long and stressful day, but that didn't make what was happening any less _revolting_.

"Then...then I thank you, my lord." He was a good man, but at that moment it took every ounce of self control that I had not to tear off that damn cloak and storm out like the kid I was. He nodded, treating my outburst as some kind of momentary lapse in judgement.

"Your efforts here," he started, once again digging up that too-slow, too-showy voice that set my nerves on edge, "in this war...you have served Neverwinter beyond the call of duty, risking your life without hesitation for the good of us all." _I_ could have told him that. It didn't count as praise if it was simply _true_. I was sick of being modest, and sick of being thrown around like a puppet. Like what _I_ wanted didn't matter...

"Now bow – and be knighted."

It wasn't a suggestion, it was an order.

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"Did...did that just happen?" I asked, my hands shaking as I tried to untie Nella's reigns from the stables. I'd practically blazed a trail out of the castle, glaring at any that got in my way until I was outside, noticing belatedly that Casavir had quickly followed me out. "Did he just...ask me...after all that...if I wanted to be one of the _Nine_?" It seemed too implausible and yet there it was. I turned to Casavir, feeling my eyebrows knit together as I thought over what had occurred that day and became more and more distressed.

"That was...unexpected, yes," he offered, looking at me uncertainly.

"I mean how could he expect me to say yes? After all that? Unless he was just trying to see how far he could push me, but..." He looked confused, as if he couldn't understand why I was so angry. Just like I'd expected.

"Under...under the castle, in Neverneath," I continued, "There was a statue of Lord Halueth. And in front of him I had to swear my lifelong loyalty to Neverwinter. There wasn't any other way past. I had to swear an _oath_. And the second I did it I knew it was a _real_ one. It wasn't like they were only relying on my sense of honour and decency to follow through, oh no. I hate it. I hate everything about it. An oath to Neverwinter! To a _city_! To a collection of nobles and banners and _laws_, and…oh _Gods_ it makes me angry just to think about it." I ran a hand through my hair, already loosening from its bun, and took a few strides to outside the stables, sitting on a stone step and breathing heavily.

"They said were going to knight you, so…did you not expect an oath?" He asked curiously. I lifted my eyes to see him standing helplessly by my side.

"I did, yeah. But it wasn't like I had a choice, was it? Up to me I'd never be a knight of theirs. I became a squire out of absolute necessity, and I know Neverwinter's been damn good to me what with the trial and, well, the keep, but…I just can't swear loyalty to a city like that. For something I care so little about..." He sat beside me and looked down, his profile etched against the white of the stone behind him.

"For what it's worth, I empathise. I…found I could not fight under a banner I had so little in common with."

"_Exactly_," I spat out immediately, working myself up until I was too angry to think straight, "I'll fight for Neverwinter if it's what I'd do anyway, and it just so happens that after everything that's come about they couldn't _drag_ me away from this thing." I shook my head, realising that what I just said in the heat of the moment was entirely true. More to the point, I wasn't scared to admit it. I knew I'd see this through to the end, no matter what the King of Shadows _or_ Neverwinter could throw at me. Lately it was getting harder to keep track of who the real enemy was.

"It's…the right thing to do, I suppose," I went on, "It just…really, _really_ gets to me that I had to swear loyalty to a city I've had nothing to do with for years. And as for Nasher..." I trailed off, gritting my teeth, "I'd do this anyway, and an oath…just makes the whole thing cheapen, like I'm doing it for _them_ and not for the fact that it's _right_. I'm probably not making much sense, but…" I glanced up at him only to see those eyes staring right back into mine, the thoughts behind them unfathomable as always. My mind wandered back to the morning and found some of the anger ebbing away... "Afterwards…after I came up from Neverneath, there was no point in fighting it. It makes everything easier, I guess, being a knight. As for a member of the _Nine_...that'll never happen. I'll be no one's personal bulldog, and _certainly_ not Nasher's."

It was a world of rules and orders and regulations that I just wasn't ready for. Any instructions I'd received in the militia were more helpful guidelines than anything else. How could they expect me to just fall into line like so many before? I knew it was for the best, I knew it was probably a really, _really_ good idea to just go with it and let them promote me, but the part of me that was still a girl barely of age demanding to be heard insisted that I remembered exactly who I was. And I wasn't a member of the Nine, nor was I a knight. I was barely a Captain.

"What will you do now?"

"What _can_ I do now? You must've heard Nasher, there's nothing I can do but go along with it like a good little servant. I'll bet he's _so_ pleased with himself for giving someone like me such an opportunity..."

"You think he did it just to make things easier? To make you feel better? The things he said...they were true. You've done more at the bidding of your own conscience than most leaders would out of duty. Whether or not you _want_ it, the fact remains that you _deserved_ it a thousand times over..."

"Oh yes?" I demanded, scrambling to my feet as if he'd just insulted me. "So I _deserve_ a life of mindless servitude? I thought you realised I'm not _like_ those people! I can't just...I've...I've lost _so_ much, Casavir!" I said, the breath knocked out of my lungs by the sudden wave of sadness as all of their helpless, lifeless faces swam before my eyes. "I've given _everything_ I have for this, and not once have I asked for a reward. Maybe they think this makes up for it, maybe you think so too, but it _doesn't_, and no matter how hard I try, _nothing_ _ever_ _will_!" My voice broke. I didn't know why I was shouting, but I knew I was glad no one else was around. Casavir stood up as well, eyes blazing as he drew closer to me.

"I _know_ that. I know how much this has taken from you, and of course I wish more than anything that it was otherwise, believe me, but you being knighted hardly changes things. If anything it will make people more willing to help—"

"It's not _about_ that! It's about the fact that they may as well have slapped a bloody _geas_ on me and called it a day! I _hate_ that they think I'm one of their lackeys now, as if I hadn't done _every single__ thing_ for people that _died_ 'cause I was too busy following Neverwinter's Gods-damned _orders_. I _won't_ be one of their bloody knights!" I recognised the common-as-muck accent that always wove its way through my voice when I was too irritated to think straight. My upbringing made me part harbourman, part elven ranger, and the latter side was too tired, to angry, too stupid to intervene and be rational.

"Yes, it was unfair that you weren't asked, but what difference does it make? I know you, you'd do the same oath or not—"

"_Do_ you?" I demanded. He was trying to be helpful. He was trying to help _me_, but it wasn't working. I didn't know if it was his fault or mine.

"Aye, I do," he said levelly, jaw tight as he stared at me, "or at least I thought I did. Being a knight, swearing this oath...it won't suddenly change who you are, it won't turn you in to something you're not. All it means is—"

"All it _means_ is that I've been absorbed into Neverwinter's ranks as if I had no story of my own, no dream other than to serve this damn city for the rest of my life. I...this isn't what I _want_! None of this is what I want! It's what I _thought_ I wanted when I left West Harbour, but now everything's...so different. _I'm _different. Can't believe I actually _liked_ the idea of a grand adventure, of being a heroine, all of that..._crap_..."

"You...you run from your destiny like it chases you, bites at your heels. While I have none. None, it seems, but to remain with you..."

'It _is_ chasing me!' I said before my ears caught up with me and registered the last part. By then it was too late, I was already fuming. "Hells, I wonder if anything at all has happened that wasn't written in the stars years before this whole thing started!" I was exaggerating, I knew. I also knew I was being unreasonable and irrational, but I also didn't seem to care. "I mean...how...how do I even know _you're_ not just another part of this fate everyone keeps reminding me of?"

"If that's so then I'm glad at least _something_ has come out of it, as this fight, the Keep, _you_...they're the only things I've felt loyal to in—"

"_Loyal?_ Is that how it is? Just scared of seeing me hurt because that way you'd screw up your damn _duty_?" I spat, gritting my teeth together. From the back of my mind a tiny, despairing voice told me this was what I always did, and he didn't deserve to be treated like all the others.

"No, I didn't mean…I don't…"

"Then what _do_ you mean?"

"Well what do you want me to say?" He shot back with surprising force. "I've followed you everywhere, and I'll be with you 'til the end, I'd _die_ for you—"

"When I met you it seemed you'd _happily_ die for people you didn't even _know!_ Tell me, paladin, d'you treat all of them this way or just the ones that fall for you first?"

I was a fool for letting that smooth, sincere charm of his get to me, and a bigger fool for not knowing when to shut my damn mouth. He grabbed my hand and forced me to look at him.

"Evelyn…" He started…

_"Evelyn?"__Neeshka'__s__ sweet-as-__cyanide voice sounded from behind me__ as I wiped the dust from my tunic that had filled the air when I'd booted down the exit from __Yaisog's__ lair, thoroughly annoyed that the emissary had been a fake__. I glanced back and saw her quickening her pace, evidently bored of frustrating the dwarf. "I was just wondering…about what we're doing. Seems like we're always taking the long way around, you know? Helping the City Watch is weird enough, and it's not really getting us anywhere. I mean, we've done everything that woman's said and everywhere we turn all these problems keep springing up." I laughed._

_"So you want me to sneak in?"_

_"Well, it couldn't be that hard, surely…" In unison we looked back to where __Khelgar__ was ambling along like a tin soldier, grasping his __axe __in both hands as he muttered__ something to himself. "Alright, alright, but we could just leave him behind, you know? It's just so frustrating waiting__ around and getting involved in so many different things that I barely know what we're trying to do anymore…"_

_"I know, I know, believe me. But I think we're close. __Or at least closer.__ I swear, if __Brelaina__ doesn't give me a pass after I've been hauling us all over these damn mountains looking f__or that emissary I'll be pissed,__" I said, shaking my head. Neeshka chuckled,_

_"Hey, you know that I'd follow you anyway. Well, as lon__g as I get my share of the loot," she winked, "h__ey __Khelgar__! Did you hear--"_

_"Hold,__" I held up a hand as I studied the road in the distance. Clustered around a broken wagon and arguing loudly in __Orcish__ were a collection of badly-armoured and probably unwashed opponents__. Getting __nearer__ to the Cliffside I sidestepped closer and peered around the corner. There were seven, maybe eight of them altogether. Only four of them had decent weapons, and they were certainly distracted. __Easy meat.__ With a signal I sent Neeshka forward, darting across the path and sneaking towards them. Another, and __Khelgar__charged, me drawing my blade and following him soon afterwards._

_Confused__ they turned towards us, one__ of them instantly falling to a__ lighting quick backstab. I __feinted__ to the left and struck hard at a gap in one's armour as __Khelgar__ pounded away at three at a time. __Grobnar__ did something vaguely helpful in__ the background through his incessant whistling. In fact, I could have sworn I saw a few arrows skitter past my head and impaling themselves in the enemy. Before long they were littered around our feet, and I wiped a spatter of dark blood from my cheek as I leant down to inspect what they were carrying._

_"Just junk."__ I said with a sigh, hearing an angry humph from Neeshka. A roar drew my attention towards the top of the shallow valley, where a reinforcement group had us in their sights. "Great, they just don't know when to quit, do they. You slaughter one, another takes his place, thinking he'll have a better chance…"_

_"Just like __Orcs__" __Khelgar__ said gruffly, raising his weapon and charging again. I followed suit and rushed their leader, taking him down after a few parried swipes. I whirled around to the rest of the battle only to see another group approach and apparently help us. I rolled my eyes, not in the mood to look out for another bunch of untrained vigilantes. Skidding down the hill I joined my party and began to hack away at the much larger force. A __huge__ creature with a __greataxe__ charged me and aimed a heavy blow at my feet. I jumped and ducked a second later as he swung back. He turned as he reeled from the strength of the weapon, and I swiped my leg underneath him, watching in satisfaction as he lost his footing and fell to the floor. As I rose to finish him off I caught sight of one of the men whom had joined us. He wore heavy plating, and wielded a long, heavy blade with an accuracy and grace I hadn't thought possible as he tore through the ranks of the __orcs__, barely stopping for breath. Perhaps I had been a little hasty to judge them after all. I delivered a downward thrust with my sword to the __Orc__ still dazed on the ground and noted with satisfaction that he appeared to be the last._

_Our parties separated, theirs apparently forming behind the man I had seen earlier as my friends gathered behind me. Neeshka sent me a sharp whisper._

_"__Argh__, he's a paladin! Look!" Sure enough, the unmistakable symbol of Tyr was etched on a corner of his __breastpate__. Well, at least he wasn't a __Helmite__. They were never any fun. "They always make my skin itch! Granted it's normally when they try to purify me with that holy water stuff that burns like __the __hell__s__, but still. Watch out…" I tried to stop myself from sniggering but couldn't help it. I glanced back to the man in charge and noticed his perplexed look that became more commanding as he regained composure._

_"The__se m__ountains are a dangerous place__ to be exploring__ my friends. __Now more than ever__."__ His voice was calm, smooth, and I was__ surprised at how young he __was now that I __had__ a good __view_

_"Aye, they're dang__erous all right!" __Khelgar__ fumed,__ "Those were _our_Orcs__, you credit-hogging -- __mphph__!" I reached back, found what felt like a helmeted head at waist height and pushed him behind me._

_"What I think the Dwarf is _trying_ to say, is that we had it under__ control, but thanks__ for the help__ anyway__." I heaved my b__astard sword onto my shoulder and flashed a __winning __smile. He raised a perplexed eyebrow, but his eyes belied his amusement._

_"So I noticed. I thank you, then, for letting __us__ take part in the battle. You are obviously very capable."_

_"Well, we were doing just fine without you, stupid bloody humans think they can just come over here and…" grunted a voice behind me. I thought about giving him a swift kick to silence him but thought better of it. I was growing rather fond of him, after all._

_"So…__what's your name__, anyway?" I asked, half out of interest and half to cover the irritated mumblings of my little motley crew._

_"I am Casavir," he answered, with an inclination of his head. I extended my hand._

_"Evelyn Ashcroft." He clasped it in his…_

…I wrenched my hand away in anger and glared at him. I didn't know why I was so angry. No, that was a lie, I did. It was frustration at the state of things, irritation at him for not…for not doing whatever it was I wanted him to do to make it alright again, like he'd always done before.

"Why are you doing this?" he growled, anger flashing in his eyes that I'd never thought would be directed at me. I didn't have an answer. I was lashing out at him because he was…there. Because I'd felt this bubbling up inside me for so long and couldn't seem to stop. This morning seemed like a dream now that I looked at him. We'd become close enough that it tore my heart in two to see what my words were doing, but not so close that I could apologise and expect him to forgive me for the sake of it.

"Because! Hells, I'd have thought you of all people would understand! Though this oath isn't even _like_ yours, I mean you must've done _something_ right if they still let you be a Paladin after breaking it like you did. This is worse, it's bigger it _matters_, I mean..." He looked like I'd just slapped him in the face. Only now did the meaning of my words catch up to me, and it was far too late to take them back.

There was a long, excruciating silence.

"Say...say something. Please."

"I think you've said enough for the both of us." I stared at him, into those eyes that were so beautiful yet at the moment so cold. I lowered my head.

"Alright," I said flatly, taking a step back, "I understand."

No good could come of this. Not with me, anyhow. I couldn't just stay there with him looking at me like I'd betrayed him in the worst possible way. I suppose I had, to him. Nothing that had happened today made the slightest bit of sense. From the bliss of the morning to the turmoil I felt now as angry grey clouds spread over the twilight sky...I...I couldn't...

I couldn't deal with any of this. I couldn't deal with being here. I wished I was strong enough to stay, to apologise, to try and put back together what I'd abruptly ripped in two. But I wasn't strong. Not even close. I closed my eyelids, heavy with the building pressure in my tear ducts, and swept past him into the stables. My throat constricted as I tried to speak.

"Go back to the Keep. Tell anyone that cares I'll be along later. There's...there's someone I need to see." I led Nella from the stables and mounted her quickly, still not able to look at him in case I saw something I couldn't deal with...

"Evelyn…"

"That's an order, Casavir," I replied quickly. And then, he closed right up. His eyes when I glanced at them were cold and angry, his fists clenched tight and he gave me a brief, stiff nod.

"Of course, Captain," he said curtly. I never thought that voice would be directed at me, and I hated him for it. No, that wasn't true. I hated myself for making the part of him I loved close off to me once again. I couldn't bear to see him anymore, looking at me in that way. With barely a movement I urged Nella into a canter and left the courtyard with trembling hands and burning eyes, running away, just like I always did.

I never did know what was good for me.

-+-+-+-+-

The flagon was just as I remembered it, only I recognised few of the faces that turned slightly to greet me as I dragged my feet through the door. Duncan's accent carried me to the bar and I sat down heavily on a stool, leaning on the bar and burying my head in my arms.

"What'll it be, lass?" I heard him ask, moving closer. I lifted my head over the circle of my arms and looked at him pitifully as he startled, "Good heavens, Evie, what happened?" He gestured vaguely towards the bar, signalling the new barmaid to cover the orders for now as he pulled up a chair and sat opposite me. "I didn't recognise you...what happened to you face?" Blunt as ever. I shrugged, still not saying a word, and lowered my head back to my arms again, nose hovering above the aged, stained wood of the bar as I took in the scent of years of spilled drinks. In a strangely comforting gesture he covered one of my shaking hands with his and tutted. "Daeghun'd have a fit to see you like this, lass. 'Til he gets here, tell me what's wrong, won't ya?" I couldn't stop myself from smiling sadly. Sometimes I forgot that Duncan had little about my father and mine's relationship to go on save what he could assume. Still, it was nice to know that at least _he_ cared.

"The village is gone, Duncan. West Harbour's burnt to the ground, Shandra's dead, I don't even know what I'm doing anymore. I don't know what's going on, and no one seems to _get_ that..."

My favourite drink appeared near my hand, and I almost gulped it down. Duncan clearly didn't know what to do any more than I did, but at that moment I was eternally grateful.

"I...I'm sorry, Evie. I heard about the village a while back. As for Shandra...I...I know how much she meant to you." I nodded, feeling tears welling up and screwing up my face like I was a child throwing a temper tantrum. Again.

"She _did_ mean a lot to me. And now she's dead, and it's my fault, and nothing I do and nothing _anyone else_ does will ever bring her back, or bring back any of the people that've died so I could keep doing whatever the Hells it is I'm doing..."

"I..." He tried. I smiled weakly, not expecting any sage advice, and slumped down to the bar again, wanting so much to just _forget..._

"Just...keep them coming, will you?" I mumbled. Another drink appeared a few moments later.

I was so angry at everything, and the worst part was that I was even angrier at myself. I was still raging about the fact that Casavir had taken the order and left, as if we were no more to each other than Captain and soldier. But then what had I been expecting? I'd wanted him to refuse, to tell me to shut up and pull myself together before everything fell apart around me. Someone needed to. If Shandra was here she'd have done it long ago.

As for Casavir...I didn't know what to think about that. Suddenly that electrifying, breathless kiss felt like his very own oath of fealty that I didn't deserve and that I couldn't live up to. The affection seemed like just one more way of him living up to being a champion, but I sure as hells wasn't a lady. It had felt so right at the time, almost like everything I'd done in my life had been leading up to that one perfect moment, but I was too angry at what fortune was weaving for me to just give up and oblige this time. I'd always thought the cards never lied, but they had clearly made a cataclysmic error of judgement in this case. I wasn't a knight, I couldn't lead an army, and _hells_ knew I could barely deal with one man let alone thousands.

I'd never had any kind of relationship that lasted past a month, and now I was starting to understand why. I was angry at him for not reading my mind, and knew I was stupid for thinking that but also didn't care. Of course I didn't hate him...just...just I was so _angry_ with the way everything had turned out. Well, perhaps not everything. After all, this morning had been a high point in a tremendously low year, and I wished more than anything that it had never ended. He didn't deserve my anger, and he didn't deserve someone like me. I felt so stupid, and once again had no idea what to do. For that one night it felt like I was found, and now I was lost again, having sent the only light I had away from me.

I was sure I was far too young to feel as old as I did, to feel so _tired_ with everything. Retta had always told me that whenever people said life had given up on them, it was a safe bet that they had given up on life first. I knew I was being stupid, but self pity was always so much simpler than self improvement. I doubted they'd take me seriously if I tried to stand up and assert myself, but I also had trouble believing they thought they could use me as they did without repercussions. I needed someone to tell me what to do, without worrying about my feelings. I needed to be told to shut up and do what needed to be done, but who would say such a thing knowing how I'd react?

This was the final leg of my journey, that much I knew. It was all coming to a head, and soon, sooner than I knew, I'd have to face the shadow that crept through the Mere. The desperate voice of self-preservation told me to run before I was killed, but I pushed the thought aside just like in the past. That would never happen. Knight-Captains didn't run away. The title still left a bitter taste in my mouth. I'd fight, and if I didn't win, I'd die. It was simple as that. I took a swig from my glass, the latest of many, and stared hard at a chip in the wood of the bar as if it held the answer to all that was troubling me.

"Don't you think you've had enough?" The line trotted out by the new barmaid as I motioned over for another drink to replace the collection of empty glasses was a classic said to all mindless drunks, and I'd said it enough times myself to know better. But now...something made me listen, and take it to heart. I _had_ had enough, and not just of this.

With a quick goodbye to Duncan I made my way outside to where Nella was tied. I was half expecting Casavir to be there, waiting for me. But of course he wasn't. I'd ordered him to go, and he'd done what I said. Why should I think he'd want to talk to me again after everything I'd said? Nella seemed eager to be back on the road, and I sighed deeply as I found my place in the saddle and urged her on, wondering about everything that had happened that morning and after...

Maybe...maybe it was better this way.


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Note**: First things first - I'm really, really sorry for not updating! I won't bore you with the list of reasons why, but rest assured it's a _long _one! Anyway, I really did want to upload this and chapter 22 in quick succession so you wouldn't think I was abandoning the romance arc of this story, but 22 might take a while longer still, so again I'm sorry for the delay. Things will get better very soon! Thank you all so much for your reviews and your emails, it really has helped me to get back into writing this story, and I am absolutely determined to see it finished! Enjoy :)**  
**

**Chapter 21**

I noticed vaguely as I passed through them that the gates of the keep had been reinforced at some point in the last few days. The guards flanking the grate nodded in recognition as Nella trudged into the courtyard, her pace dragged down by my foul mood. As I lifted my head to scan the scene before me a voice sounded from somewhere around my ankles.

I leant around my mare's neck to get a better view and saw a child I recognised as another of Wolf's minions, still talking confident in the belief that his voice could be heard amidst the bustle of the courtyard. I dismounted quickly, waving over an idle guard to take my horse and crouching down so I was at the boy's height.

"What was that?" I asked, wondering how, even though Bertha insisted she was taking care of the 'poor dears', they always had mud on their faces. This one had a carpet of mousy hair running wild and sticking out in all directions from his scalp and big brown eyes that rolled in their sockets as he looked at me.

"Like I said," he repeated with the haste and impatience of childhood, "there's someone t' see ya. Waitin' round back somewhere. That nasty lady with th' short hair sent me t' get ya." His quick, clipped speech would have been intelligible had I been born and raised a squire or knight, but as things stood I felt far more comfortable with him reporting than if one of my 'Officers' had approached me.

"Kana?" He shrugged, apparently bored now that his task was finished, and trotted off. I surveyed the courtyard as I headed towards the inner Keep's walls, noticing the small improvements even in the short while I'd been gone. Now who could that visitor be? I told myself I was simply doing my job as I headed around the path to the back. It certainly _wasn't_ the case that I was simply avoiding going inside in case I should run into someone I couldn't yet face. I sighed heavily as I turned a corner to the side of the Keep that always seemed to be in shadow whatever the time of day…

"D...Daeghun?" My voice seemed to fail me as I saw him standing there. Suddenly the world I'd left behind had shown up uninvited into the world I'd carved out for myself as a warrior. Not that I wasn't happy he was alive, just...he didn't look too pleased to see me. Well, I thought bitterly, perhaps that was the only thing about this that _wasn't_ surprising.

"Evelyn. You look well." Cool, chestnut eyes rested on me as if I'd just come home from a night's work, not been away and fighting for my life this past year. His voice was devoid of emotion, and, as usual, that made all of _my_ emotion bubble to the surface. Suddenly the many months since I'd left home were nothing, and I was the same girl that left West Harbour, so full of dreams.

"I...I am well enough," I managed, forcing myself not to lower my eyes and speak like a child being disciplined. I was a _grown-up_ for crying out loud...

"Good." His expression hadn't changed, and I wondered why he had travelled all this way just to remind me how sub-par I was as his child. "In truth I come here to speak with another, who--"

"What? You came all the way here to find _someone else_?" I let out a sharp sigh and glared at the ground, "Of course, how could I have thought you'd want to see the daughter you haven't laid eyes on for a year and a ..."

"_Is that the _fabled _sarcasm of humans I hear? I can never tell."_ He smoothly changed to Elvish, like he always did when he didn't want others to know what passed between us. It probably embarrassed him to be my father, even if I'd earned this place, hells, even that damn title, with my own blood. The guards scattered around directed their attentions elsewhere, and I let my voice rise as loud as I damn well pleased.

"_Oh I get it, every time I let you down I'm just one of those _humans_? Well those _humans_ have done a damn sight more than you when it comes to this war, and _Gods _know that at least they're_honest!"

"_Evelyn, calm down," _he snapped coolly. I bristled, feeling everything that had happened over the past year push me ever closer to the edge. The countless battles I'd won, all the selfless acts, all the pain I'd endured...and for what? So _he_ could pretend all that was worth nothing? I knew I was overtired, and I knew I'd regret speaking harshly, but none of that stopped me.

"No_, father, I_ won't_. Do you have any idea what I've been through since I left West Harbour? What I've found out? I'd known your damn brother for a scant month and he had more to say to me than you've done for my whole life--"_

"_If you wish_," he interrupted through teeth clenched in exasperation, face still stiff and unresponsive, _"we can talk._ Later._ For now there are far more _important_ matters to discuss."_ I stiffened, but nodded, knowing that even if he loved his secrets my father was reliable when it really came down to it. This time, though, I'd hold him to what he said. And when I spoke to him, I'd get some real answers. It...it could be the last chance I'd get.

"What is it, then?" I asked simply, face impassive as his. I'd learned Elvish alongside Common, a fact which seemed to surprise most people. I didn't see why it should, as it was as simple a tongue as any other when learned from birth. Perhaps, then, it was just the arguments I associated with it that made me prefer the Common tongue. Elvish didn't suit anger, and once again I felt like I was spoiling the beautiful, melodic syllables by spitting them out as I did. Daeghun never got angry. Even when I was at my most idiotic, my most childish, he only ever seemed disappointed. Somehow, that was so much worse.

"_Since you left many villages have required my assistance with fleeing the darkening Mere."_ He continued in Elvish as if the bemused guards couldn't be trusted. He probably looked down on them just as he did the rest of West Harbour. Poor, simple, short-lived creatures...I forced myself to calm and remembered all the things the man standing before me had sacrificed so I might have a life, and a decent one at that. I told myself I was being irrational, and was just upset about earlier...but knowing that didn't make it any easier. "_I have tried to learn of the Dark Hunter, this King of Shadows that swallows light so. The land still holds many secrets, but I could not tarry in the Mere. I discovered something there and had to pass it on to you immediately."_

"_What is it?"_

"Evelyn? Ah, there you are..." I heard the irritatingly harmonious tones of my very favourite druid even before I turned to see Elanee gliding into the small courtyard. "I heard one of the scouts asking after me...oh, well met." She smiled, her eyes wide in a way that would have made her seem maternal did she not look _my_ age... "You must be Daeghun."

"I am, yes. And you are Elanee, of the Circle of the Mere. I must speak with you." I couldn't help myself. My mouth fell open and my fists clenched by my sides.

"You're here for _her_?" Sand or Aldannon I could understand. Hells, I'd have let him off if it was someone who'd know a clue if it kicked her in the shins, but _Elanee_? I'd tried so hard to like the elf, but that simple, pitying glaze to her eyes, the way she thought herself _so_ superior...

"Why, Evelyn, I'd almost _missed_ your scorn."

...The way she turned every situation so I felt like an imbecile for no good reason. Her voice reminded me of the way mothers guilted their children into apologising. I glared at the space between her and Daeghun.

"Excuse me for thinking my father might actually be interested in _me_ for a change. I see I was mistaken, so I'll leave the two of you to discuss whatever the hells—"

"_Evelyn, you are being childish,"_ he chided, still in the same tone that suggested he was so very fed up with telling me the same things over and over again. I wouldn't have minded his scolding so much if she weren't right there, listening and nodding along as if, had he not said it, she would have done so herself...

"_I...sorry,"_ I muttered quietly hoping that she wouldn't hear. I couldn't argue with him on that point, at least.

"_This concerns you as well. It concerns both of you. Stay, and listen. If you have the patience."_

I hated the way I always proved him right. Of course he'd been expecting more of me. I had no excuse to be acting the way I was, not with him, and not with anyone else. Now, my job relied on me rising above my own cares and petty concerns. Part of me wanted to scream out and beat my fists against the wall, insisting I wasn't yet twenty and shouldn't be expected to have the maturity of a battle-hardened veteran, but none of that mattered. _I_ didn't matter. All that _did_ matter was that I was somehow victorious. Not just for my own good, but for countless people who relied on us to win this war. Crossing my arms, I fell silent and, for once, I listened.

- - - - -

I watched him walk away again, without even a farewell. He'd promised a real talk some time in the future, and if I survived long enough I'd sure as hell hold him to it. I supposed that was something, at least. Knowing what was to come, I sent off a guard to fetch the others.

"Your father's not one for showing emotion, is he?" Elanee chimed in helpfully. I shrugged noncommittally.

"You noticed, did you?" I hated it when people tried to analyse us as a 'family'. We'd never have a normal relationship, mainly due to the fact that we weren't _normal_ people, and I understood that even if I didn't necessarily like what it brought. I walked a little faster, hoping to brush off the inevitable conversation. As usual, she didn't take the hint and matched my pace.

"I'm not sure how you could stand him. I would have run off when I was young." My eyes narrowed. Daeghun wasn't the best of fathers, but she had no right to insult the man that had given up everything for me. I spent eighteen years of my life in the same household as my father, and she seemed to think she had him figured out in all of ten minutes.

"You don't know him like I do. No one does." That much was true, even though I had doubts about how much I _did_ know about my secretive father. "He made a promise to take care of me, and he kept it as best he could, even if it meant he sacrificed everything else. Sure he's not perfect, but who is?"

"Mm," she said thoughtfully with a pleasant smile. "I suppose that is one way of looking at it."

"He loves me," I said, suddenly annoyed that she didn't seem to be taking in a word I was saying. I knew he did, even if he didn't_like _me sometimes. And it was for that reason I'd always love him, however much he made me angry. If that didn't make him my father, I couldn't think what would. I wouldn't have anyone telling me otherwise, _especially_ not her.

"I am sure he did," she spoke like a nurse soothing a madman, and I felt the heat of anger surging through my veins. Unbidden, the image arose of a tall, dark man, brows creased as he tried to grasp why I was saying all those stupid, untrue things...

"_He loves me,"_ I repeated more forcefully, "_though it doesn't seem like that's something _you'd_ understand."_ I surprised myself even as I spoke the words. I'd prided myself on trying to keep the peace whatever the cost, but lately it felt like I'd crack along the edges if I didn't find a way to let it all out.

"_Excuse me?"_ She leant her head to one side and narrowed her eyes as if trying to understand my words. Her silky chestnut hair fell over one shoulder.

"In common, please, I don't think the others like being kept in the dark." The voice sent a jolt up my spine and I turned quickly to come face-to-face with Bishop, those hooded black eyes saying so much in one instant. A thought occurred to me a few seconds later: did he know Elvish? And how long had he been just around the corner for...

"This doesn't concern you, Bishop," Elanee said with the cold, quiet confidence of a woman that knew everything about the world and was getting sick of other people coming in and changing the facts.

"Oh, I think it does. If the circle you spoke of are along the northwestern reaches of the Mere like killjoy over there thinks, then I know a route that you won't. It'd be a good place to start looking for your dead friends..."

"Daeghun says they're alive," she said immediately, lifting her chin as if getting one up on him would make her words true.

"For now, maybe. I know of a safe port on the edge of the marsh. I can guide you there, if you want to go." The question was clearly directed at me, but that didn't stop Elanee from accepting in a strange, unsure voice that sounded practiced.

"Did you just _offer_ to help?" I asked incredulously. He shrugged, the look in his eyes changing ever so slightly as he caught sight of the cloak on my back.

"Not me you should be worried about, _Captain_. Doesn't sound like we've got a lot of time, so we'd better get moving." I nodded, starting to walk with him back to the main courtyard.

"Yes, Bishop's probably right," Elanee said helpfully.

"I'll scout ahead once we get off the main road," he continued, ignoring her, "it'll save us both a lot of time—"

The same pale, twitchy man that had walked into the meeting between Nevalle and I chose that moment to appear once more from behind the last wall before the Keep's doors.

"Oh, Captain! There you are! Pardon me, but if I could just..." Bishop was glaring at him, but he kept talking. Apparently he was suicidal, as well.

"Want a dagger between your ribs?" The man startled, his hands performing some complicated dance of uncertainty mingled with fear before he darted off, mouth moving like a goldfish. Elanee followed soon afterwards, saying she needed to prepare herself before we left. I was still in my travelling gear, and in no mood to relax, because then I'd have to think about everything that had happened, and whenever my mind slipped over to the fact that I still hadn't heard anything from Casavir since I'd been back, and I still hadn't gathered up the courage to find him and apologise, I started to panic. Battle was so much simpler, and I welcomed the distraction. Speaking of distractions...

"Finally made it back, and with a new title, so I see..." I shrugged, trying not to look at him, trying not to let that stare disarm me like it always did.

"They Knighted me, funnily enough. Means I own this place good and proper, now."

"So, Knight-Captain, is it?" The ridicule had come back in full force, and however I tried I couldn't stop it from affecting me. I nodded tersely.

"That's the gist of it, yeah." He didn't say anything. The look he gave me was enough – amusement, mockery, the joy of being proved right, and all at my expense. Eventually I noticed the others surrounding us, waiting for instructions. I told them what was going on, what the mission was, and tried not to care that Casavir wasn't among them. He had obviously been back to the Keep, but wherever he was now, it wasn't here. "Alright," I continued, letting my mind switch back to Captain mode and ignoring all the little insignificant thoughts that popped up, like why he wasn't here, why I'd been such a fool... "Bishop'll go ahead once we get nearer, so Neeshka, I need you with me. Khelgar and Zhjaeve, I'll need you two as well, and..." and then I figured I might as well try and make up for my behaviour before and summoned up a shred of maturity, "...Ammon, why don't you join us?" He looked surprised for the briefest moment before he nodded, flexing his fingertips. Slowly, I was letting my initial hatred of him go. And...and he was damn useful, I'd give him that much. I knew I could trust him to stand with me against the King of Shadows no matter what, and in such uncertain times it was a blessing.

"Where's Casavir?" I thought the words had been demanded by my own mind before I saw Neeshka with her hands on her hips, looking around as she spoke. "Should be here by now, he's never late..."

"He isn't at the Keep," said Kana, announcing her presence as she walked over to our assembled group, "he left earlier today, quite soon after he got back. I assumed you knew, Knight-Captain." The use of my new title made a few eyes widen. I tried not to think about it.

"Ah...yes, but...did...he say anything else?" I tried and failed to sound nonchalant. Kana didn't seem to notice.

"Strangely enough, he did not. I had assumed it was on your order, Knight-Captain."

'_It was...'_ came the rebellious thought from the back of my mind. I lifted my eyes to see Bishop staring at me thoughtfully. How easy it would be to take him up on that offer of his. I knew it was still open for whenever I decided to cave in, and a part of me thought of how it would be nice to be used by a person instead of a city. I tried to rid my mind of him, as well as those deep, oceanic eyes that stared pleadingly back at me, and focussed on the here and now.

"Never mind. We're going now," I said with a note of finality. Bishop raised an eyebrow at my curtness but I brushed past him through the gate, praying for the sweet, uncomplicated thrill of battle to fall upon us soon.

- - - - -

A knight. Well, wasn't that something…

I watched that cloak of hers swaying back and forth as she walked, having scouted the path ahead and doubling back some time ago. Knighthood can't have been something she'd asked for, so it must've been a 'reward' of some kind. No doubt she'd be angry about it, but she'd obviously agreed eventually. Was it the offer of power, of possessions, or…something else?

"Don't get too close, Neesh," I heard her voice, laced with near-exhaustion, up ahead, "that weed there, with the reddish leaves, it'll give you a nasty sting." Neeshka eyed it warily as she steered clear of the plant in question. The tiefling wasn't at all comfortable in these surroundings, which didn't surprise me in the slightest. What _did _surprise me was that _she_ was. Evelyn made hardly a sound as she moved over the rough foliage, and I remembered that look her 'father' had given her as he'd walked off. I told myself it was curiosity that made me ask about him as she slowed down.

"Daeghun? I...I don't know. Like you, I guess."

"Like me?"

"Well...yeah. He's a damn good archer and tracker – knows the land better than anyone else for miles, and...he doesn't like to talk much, either."

"I saw."

"It's not like _that_, though," she said at once, instantly on the defensive, "he loves me. He does. It's just after everything that happened what with his wife, my mother...he has a hard time showing it." Suddenly she looked straight at me and shrugged, "not worth talking about, though. Not now, anyway."

"Why's that?"

"What, now you're _interested_ in my remarkably unremarkable childhood?"

"Wouldn't go that far, princess. Just curious how someone like him raised a fighter 'stead of a tree-hugger." I nodded at Elanee, who was gliding through the forest as if in a trance. Now more than ever it seemed like a particularly strong gust of wind could carry her off. I'd never had any love for elves, and the druidess was no exception. Halfelves were another matter, long as they knew their place. Evelyn, on the other hand...

My gaze was drawn to the modest points of her ears, and the fire that danced behind her eyes. Whatever the hells she was, it sure was something to look at. The image of her emerging from the water, skin glistening, arose in my mind, and I wondered why I'd done nothing about it yet. I told myself that it'd happen soon enough. I'd get what I came for, then I could be gone from this place, her Keep, her mission. The end was drawing ever closer, and I knew it wouldn't be long before she saw things as they were. It'd make things so much easier if she'd realise things by herself. Maybe that way she'd figure out that leaving with me was the only way she'd get out of this alive.

I smirked. Bet the fool paladin would _love_ that. I remembered her words to me, so long ago now, voice slurred with ale, '_he's got his faith to keep him warm. Or cold, by the looks of it.'_ How he thought he'd get anywhere by following her like a damn lost puppy, admiring and fawning, I'd never know. At least I could admit it to myself, though, I knew, there wasn't an awful lot to admit.

"A_druid_?" She asked, snapping me back to the here and now, "can you honestly picture me dancing through the woods with a sickle in one hand, flowers in the other?" I wondered if any druids actually danced through the woods naked... She shook her head, eyes rolling to the heavens. "Wasn't like it was just me and him in some cabin in the middle of nowhere. He was the only elf for miles round, and it was only natural that I'd grow sick of learning the names and uses of every damn plant in the swamp. There's no way he'd have convinced me to do what he does. 'Sides, I never had the eye for bows." Almost absentmindedly she ran a hand over the hilt of her sword like a lover's caress.

I opened my mouth to respond, but the druid spoke first.

"The shadows here, they are so thick…you can feel them in the air…"

"Aye…" said the woman beside me, taking a few steps forward until she was next to Elanee, "The same corruption that's taken the rest of the Mere has seeped in here. We cannot stay for long." The elf shot her an offended look and I rolled my eyes. That wisp of a creature always took things the wrong way, and I couldn't understand how Evelyn had kept her around for so long. I'd have left her in a ditch on the way to Ember had it been up to me…

"I am certain the Circle must have found a way to shield themselves from it. There can be no other way. I would know they were alive, otherwise."

"Elannee, whether they're alive isn't the issue, it's whether they've been affected or—"

"No, they must have found a way. These are not harbourmen – they would not have allowed the shadow to overcome them so. You will see." Evelyn clenched her fists and gritted her teeth, waiting for Elanee to move further into the swamp before following. "Here, up ahead…this is the meeting place. I will show you…"

Her ice blue eyes flashed dangerously as she turned to look at me, and I smirked, knowing exactly the thoughts that ran through her head, but still not understanding them. Elanee was a passable druid, but she was some of the worst company I'd ever encountered. Why Evelyn even let her speak was beyond me.

The trees parted, and I took in the scene before us. Instantly, I knew this wouldn't end without a battle. Heedless, Elanee rushed forward, her new Knight-Captain throwing out a hand to stop her a second late. She glanced back in my direction, her eyes pleading even as she glided over the marshland to follow the elf.

I rolled my eyes and drew my blades, hoping I could escape this ridiculous charade before I was drawn in even deeper.

- - - - -

"I...I can't believe...they're gone..." she'd barely done a thing during the entire fight and now she was glancing around like a lost child in the aftermath of the battle. My glare softened, remembering how I'd been as West Harbour burnt before me. I suppose in a way she _was_ pretty lost...

"They were mad, Elanee," I said, coming to stand next to her.

"But...the things they said..."

"...Were lies. They were driven to madness by the shadow of this place, surely you can see that." I was trying to be comforting but as usual it didn't look like she was taking in a word I'd said.

She gasped as the tree at the centre of the glade began to pulse, before a slender, olive-skinned elf materialised before it. He ignored me entirely, moving over to Elanee and placing a hand on her shoulder.

"The happenings today were unfortunate, yes. But they were necessary. I believe that you have seen things clearer than any of us," his voice was deep, and his eyes held hundreds of years worth of knowledge in their moss green depths.

She was just about ready to switch sides but moments ago. I tried to chalk it up to the madness of the situation, but I wouldn't put it past her to have come up with that thought all by herself...

"What will you do now, Elder Naevan? This place, and the circle...they have been destroyed. What is there left for you to watch?" Elannee asked quietly.

"That I do not know. Much has been lost, and yet much remains untouched."

"The King of Shadows will reach more than the Mere, Elder," I started, refusing to fade into the background, "and we need all the help we can if we are to drive him back. We fight a common enemy." And here I was, recruiting allies just like I'd been told. Still, if we could get his help...

"Vashne was mad, but he was right about one thing," Naevan's piercing gaze focussed on me, as if I'd just trodden on a flower to spite him and this damn glade, "You are, in many ways, the root of these troubles." I gritted my teeth together but forced my voice to stay calm. After everything I'd done to help not just him but everyone else, you'd think they'd be a little more _grateful_.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, Elder..." I started.

"When the swamp last burned, when shadow grew over this land, the shard in your chest made a black mark on the earth. However this conflict ends, I know you shall be at the centre of it all."

"You're saying that like it's _my_ fault."

"Isn't it?"

"No!" I cried, outraged. "I didn't ask for this, I'm just doing what I can with what I've been given. I'm trying to save this land and others from destruction however I can. I'm trying to save what's left of my home. I'd have thought you'd understand that."

"My place, shardbearer, is with the Mere. But before I go, tell me...why do you continue to carry that burden in your chest?"

"Well it's not like I can just grab a poker and fish it out, is it?" He was a good six inches shorter than me, but I still knew when I was being looked down on. I narrowed my eyes.

"That is the resolve of one that will fail. You carry it because you must, not because you will face up to it." I felt my face growing hot, and I had to set the tip of my blade on the ground to stop myself from shaking.

"Think what you will, _Elder_. I thought you'd have more wisdom than those that imprisoned you but it seems I am only fit to be judged as a vessel and agent of destruction rather than as a person. Forgive my_ignorance_." He gave me a long, grating look before sweeping his head to the side as if blotting me out of his vision and focussing on the druidess.

"Elanee...you may walk with me, if you wish."

"I...I will, Elder Naevan. Perhaps I can undo the damage done here. I must fight for the land here, not behind stone walls." She turned to me, a dreamy look on her face as her eyebrows took on that aggravating, sympathetic slant that always appeared when she looked at me. I wanted to break that perfectly straight nose of hers. Why in the hells wasn't Casavir here to deal with this for me? Why the hells had I sent him away... "You have taught me much, Shard-Bearer, but after the events here I cannot in good conscience stay with you. Too much has been lost, and is yet to be lost." Too much has been lost. I let the words play around in my head and felt my anger growing anew. I'd watched my village burn, stepped over the bodies of those I loved, and even then I fought for everything I had left. This woman had lost trusted allies, perhaps even friends, and, in her great wisdom, was happy to abandon everything we'd worked towards. I'd had enough of this.

"Shard-Bearer, is it?" I spat, "after all we've done, you're so easily talked out of helping me? And what in the hells do you mean, 'good conscience'? Do you even hear what you're saying? What is it about what we're doing that's against your bloody conscience?"

"Evelyn, please, you must understand..."

"What is there to understand? There is no one to replace you if you leave us now, and you know as well as I do that the King of Shadows will not stop with this damn swamp. Wherever you run, wherever you try to build life anew, he will destroy it. If you stay with us then, as much as I hate to admit it, we've a much better chance of preventing that fate."

"I cannot stay with you. Not after...after everything that has happened here."

"What would you rather I'd done? _Not_ defend myself? Or is it because of what I am? Would you rather I'd _not_ lost my mother and grown up an orphan with a shard of silver lodged in my chest? Well, you and me both, Elanee..."

"You will be in the middle of this battle. I cannot be so involved anymore. My place is here, not in your Keep." Our first meeting arose in my mind. The words I'd offered with good intent were thrown back into my face as if I'd insulted her with my 'bog-bred morals'. I'd had little patience for her then, and it was growing thinner still.

"Aye, the foolish ways of men and their love of stone walls. Would you have me sit on the sidelines? Let others die while I try to avoid being in the midst of chaos?"

"This is your destiny. And it is not one I can be a part of." She wasn't even answering the questions I asked, and the words tumbled out of my mouth faster as I got angrier and angrier.

"You were happy enough to be a part of it when it suited you, _Elanee_." She looked like I'd just slapped her in the face. I would have felt bad if anything I'd said hadn't been brewing for a long time now.

"Evelyn, please..."

"No. Forget it. I tried, you know, I _really_ tried to like you, but you were too determined to stay right there on your damn perch above the rest of us. I don't know why you stuck around for so long if you cared this little about what we were doing." I sighed, turning back to the others and taking slow steps back. "In any case, I hope you're happy where you are. If we lose, and the King of Shadows takes this land, I hope you thank the gods that you weren't with us when we died. Goodbye." Without a backwards glance, my companions and I left the Mere.

Why was I always the one left to pick up the pieces when I was the youngest and by all rights stupidest person in my damn group? When was the last time someone had cared, _actually_ cared about how I felt? About how this whole _mess_ was dragging me under, deeper and deeper every day until I could barely make out the light breaking the surface? Since Shandra had died it seemed no one was that bothered about how the leader of this entire bloody operation was dealing with events, or how she was growing less and less certain she'd make it out alive, or how every time she thought of what had happened and what was still to come she just wanted to run as far as she could away from it all...

No one, it seemed, but him. A jolt ran through me as I recalled what I had done in its horrific entirety. I missed him. It was a strange thought, as he'd never been gone long enough for me to notice his absence, but without him standing beside me, radiating stability and warmth without saying a word, I felt entirely isolated. Yes, I missed him, but that would do no good because he was gone. Where to, I didn't know. I doubted I'd ever find out. He had no reason to stick around to die for me, not after what I'd said. Not after I'd made it perfectly clear what I thought of him as the words tumbled unbidden from my mouth before I had a chance to run them past my brain first. I was such a fool. More to the point, I was a lonely fool. At least I wouldn't have to lose him another way. At least I could dream that things could have been otherwise, instead of having him reject me first. I glanced over to where Bishop walked, a few steps back, and felt a fist clench around my heart. It would be so easy to lose myself again, like I'd done so many times. But things were different now, and I didn't know if I could do that to myself. Not again. Not with him.

Not when I wanted, _needed_ another.


	22. Chapter 22

A.N. - I'm rubbish, I know. I'm sorry! In happier news there's a new, much better portrait of Evelyn on my profile page. Enjoy!

**Chapter 22**

The sun was just creeping over the Keep's highest towers as we made our way through the gates once more. We'd stayed in Highcliff after our visit to the Mere, but the night had not been a restful one. Not for me, anyway. I'd sat on the edge of the cliff overlooking the sea until the colours of dawn lit up the empty horizon, wondering what it was, exactly, I'd gotten myself into. Barely two days since Nasher had told me to gather allies, and I'd lost two. One I could probably do without, but the other…

I'd rested my head against my knees and cursed my actions until my throat was hoarse from the whispers I spat out in anger. It was strange, imagining the Keep without him. It was even stranger arriving back and knowing he wouldn't be there. The others seemed just as weary, and dispersed the moment we arrived. I took my time crossing the courtyard as I tried to think of something, anything else before a very distinctive jingling alerted me to what was probably going to be another expensive conversation. Veedle scurried over to where I stood, instruments of measurement and calculation clashing hopelessly against each other.

"Knight-Captain! Hello there! I don't suppose you've had time to see my newest construction yet? No, of _course_ you haven't, you've only been back a matter of _seconds_! Well! Now is the _perfect_ time! It is a work of _genius_, you must agree! Far superior to the _older_ construction that once took its place—"

"Veedle," I interrupted, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Yes, Knight-Captain?"

"What is it?" Everything he created was 'a work of genius', and every time it was more substantial than a filled-in gap in the walls, he demanded I take a tour to appreciate his genius.

"Why, what you _requested_ we build on the ground over yonder! A church! Or should that be temple? No matter! What you see before you is a construction of the _highest_ quality honouring Tyr!" He snatched up my hand and tugged me in the direction of what had previously been a caved-in guardhouse or something. Now...it was unrecognisable.

A jolt ran through me and I tried to stop the pain from registering on my face. I'd had that built for him. It wasn't fair that he should pray in front of a beat-up old shield. I wanted a proper temple for the priests and clerics to pay their respects, as we'd need all the help we could get, divine or otherwise, if we were to win this war. Tyr had been good to me in Neverwinter, and it was only right I give something back. Even if he wasn't my God, I was sure he could see my side of this bizarre little story.

"It's…it's nice." I managed. He looked like I'd strangled a puppy in front of him. "Very nice, I mean. Beautiful. I am speechless." The smile returned to his face as he nodded, satisfied, and trotted off towards the chaotic room he'd been given in the Keep. I'd been there once, and the precarious stacks of paper and sharp objects littered about were a disaster waiting to happen. Somehow, though, his constructions always managed to stay upright. The temple before me looked like it could withstand the rest of the Keep tumbling to the round around it. And it _was_ beautiful to look at, with columns etched into the stone of the small building as if they themselves supported the roof tiled in dark blue. A set of scales were carved just above the doorway, like the symbol delicately engraved onto his armour.

"Knight-Captain Ashcroft?" My gaze drifted down to where the doors had opened. A woman stood there 

in long, dark blue robes. Her hair, a greying shade of brown, was tied back in a bun, and kind, light eyes smiled at me as she spoke in a quiet voice. "We have not spoken, my lady, but of course I know of you." Her attire marked her as a priestess, and one of higher rank at that.

"Well met," I said, managing a smile.

"I will not keep you, my lady, I simply wanted to inform you that it has been taken care of, as you asked."

"...Excuse me?"

"Oh, forgive me, of course you cannot keep track of every mission you order. I speak of the team you sent to the site of West Harbour. I wanted to tell you that the dead have been buried and their graves sanctified. The people of the village will not walk as spirits, allied with your enemies, and can rest in their former home. I understand you had some connections to the village, yes? My condolences on your loss." She bobbed a curtsey and made to leave. My head was spinning.

"Wait, I...I thank you for doing this, truly, but it was not my order."

"Oh...that is strange." Her eyebrows knitted together as she looked back at me. "We thought nothing of it, as we did have the men to spare thanks to more novices being taken into training. The young Paladin that led us said it was your wish. But no harm done, I imagine. I am sure he meant well."

I knew the answer before I asked the question, and felt my heart quicken in my chest. "Of whom do you speak?"

"Why, Casavir." My eyes fell to the floor, and I nodded as a signal for her to carry on with her business. Selfless gestures were what paladins _did_, but all the same I couldn't help being touched. It could have been so dangerous, and no doubt he took only those he had to. This way the images that haunted my dreams would never come to pass. I would not have to fight the spectres of former friends, and they in turn would be given the respect in death that they deserved in life. My mind slipped back to a moment, so long ago now, when I'd known him for barely half a day. The air was saturated with the stench of rotting flesh, and the walls of the tiny underground room had felt even closer as I'd caught sight of the corpses left out to be defiled and raised as undead minions, piles of them just lying there like dead slabs of meat. I'd heard the strain in his voice as he struggled to remain calm...

_..."These bodies...I know them, I served with these men and women..." He cast his eyes about the place with horror. "How...how did they come to be here? Some of them fell in battle against the orcs, I remember, but...their bodies were never retrieved..."_

"_Why would anyone be doing this?" The old castle near Highcliff rose in my mind, and I wondered how far those priests had spread. Necromancy disgusted me at the best of times, but these bodies were laid out as if they were a crop fresh from the harvest. I seriously doubted orcs would have a use for such things..._

"_I don't know, but...whatever it is...we must press on and see what lies deeper in the cave," he said firmly, forcing himself to look towards the tunnel out of this place._

"_They don't deserve to rot here, that's for sure," I replied angrily. "They should have funeral rites at least, even if we cannot bury them. It's clear whoever did this didn't think much of the souls piled up here, but the least we can do is make sure they reach the other side." _

_He cast his eyes over the bodies and sighed, apparently having come to a decision."Aye...you speak the truth. I wish to find Logram as much as you, but he can wait a little longer..."_

And so we sent the fallen men and women on their way with Tyr's blessings. It cost us an hour or so, but I couldn't have justified leaving them there. He must have been returning the favour by burying the Harbourmen. Now, the question remained as to whether it was a thoughtful gesture, his duty as a Paladin, or simply a way to repay any debts before he left for good. The priestess was already gone, so I couldn't ask her where he'd gone afterwards. Besides, I told myself, it was none of my business what he did or where he went. I had no hold over him, and after the things I'd said he had no reason to return to the Keep. To me. I always expected men to be mind readers. To do what I wanted, not what I said. The old, carefree lass inside me said he should have followed me to the Flagon, at the very least been waiting for me outside. However, the part of me that had a clue shook her head in despair. I'd told him to leave, _ordered_ him, even, and that's what he did. I couldn't have expected any less – it wasn't like this was some storybook. The honourable heroine wasn't doing this for the honour, and though the side of Goodness was becoming stronger by the day, it was still dwarfed by the army of Shadow. It would take a miracle to win this war.

My shoulders sagged as I walked beneath the massive doors leading into the Keep's main entrance hall, wishing not for the first time that the storytellers hadn't flat out lied about, well, practically everything. I had a host of amusingly quirky sidekicks, but even they were wondering how long the relative calm we had could last. I had a castle, but it was draughty, lonely, and built with war, not romance in mind. I had a knight, too, and he might have been everything I wanted, but he was gone.

"Knight-Captain, a word if you could—"

"My lady, if you could just—"

"Knight Ashcroft, I must speak with—"

"Captain, welcome back, some news has come from—"

Kana, that short Luskan, and two other people I didn't recognise descended upon me the moment I came into view. Their voices blended into one long stream of noise, telling me all these different things, making me listen, demanding attention and action and money and heroism and everything I couldn't give.

"...I told you about this problem before – you remember, I presume? – and it has not gone away! I have spoken to the sergeant you had visit one of the neighbouring villages and _she_ seemed to think..."

"...Knight-Captain? Knight-Captain are you listening to me? This is a _very_ serious matter, and I expect you shall give it your _full_ attention until..."

It felt like I'd stumbled into a dream, or more likely a nightmare. I wasn't yet twenty and somehow someone had thought it a good idea to give me a Keep to run. The events of the past few days, weeks, 

even months were finally catching up to me, and as I looked frantically from one speaker to the next, wishing they would all just go away, that they would all stop. I realised I'd closed my eyes, and when I forced them open again, everything seemed muted. The four, and now a fifth, were still talking at me, but I was no longer hearing a word of it. I felt myself raise an arm and point towards Kana, saying in a strange, detached voice, "Anything that isn't about someone needing to be gutted, ask her."

As I turned and walked towards the door, my footsteps sounded like they were coming from a long way away, and I kept walking. My body felt numb, like I was floating in syrup, and every sensation that happened my way seemed to bounce off of me, like I was physically armed against interruptions and nuisances. It probably wasn't healthy, but I doubted I'd outlive my usefulness as a knight-captain anyway. I kept walking. I didn't know where I was going, and didn't much care until I eventually turned a corner into a dead end. Before me was a window, large enough to lean out of, beckoning at the end of the hall. I crossed the distance and rested my hands on the sill, realising that I'd taken myself to the southern facade of the Keep, facing the skyline that loomed up like the shadow of dusk. By my reckoning, it was just an hour or two past midday. I didn't know how long I stayed there, or why, but I did know the solitude was never fated to last.

"My lady?"

I was catapulted back into reality. Time sped up, and suddenly every sound was amplified, like I'd been underwater and just that instant broke the surface. I turned quickly, resting my hands back on the window and staring at the man before me. Casavir. It made no sense that he was here, now, and talking to me. I was so sure he'd left for good. And then I realised the corridor I'd wandered so aimlessly to was his, and again, he was probably wondering what _I _was doing there. Especially after...everything. He wasn't in armour, and if he was leaving his room it meant he'd probably only just got back and disarmed. After everything I'd said, he was still looking at me in concern. He still cared. I didn't dare give anything away just yet, in case it was simply looking out for a comrade that was making me melt inside. I couldn't deal with being pushed away for real. Not by him. And then, without warning, the tension broke. His shoulders dropped, every bad thing I'd done was swept away, and in his eyes I saw things as they were.

"Evelyn..."

I took the three steps between us and fell into his arms before he could say another word, every second telling myself how lucky I was to be there. It all melted away, and once again nothing mattered but that simple contact as he held me closer.

"I'm...sorry," I mumbled into his shirt, pressing my cheek against the cloth as if it were a silken pillow. I felt his lips press against my hairline as he told me _he_ was sorry for not coming with me to the Mere. I was stunned.

"I didn't think something would come up so soon," he continued, "I suppose I thought I'd have long enough to get there and back in time to help you, but it seems not. And I'm sorry for not finding you first. There was...something I'd wanted to take care of for a while." I looked up at him, feeling tears pricking at the corners of my eyes as my throat dried up. Maybe it was the exhaustion, maybe it was the fact that I couldn't remember the last time I was so emotionally drained...or maybe it was just that I couldn't believe he was still here, saying those words, after everything I'd thrown in his face.

"I know. I heard...thank you. But...why?" I was incapable of human speech, but he didn't seem to mind. He gave a half shrug, his arms still wrapped around me.

"Because you did it for me? Because no spirits deserve a fate like that? In all honesty I don't have a better reason, though I suppose that doesn't matter when the actions are good." With a sigh I rested my forehead against his collar and marvelled at the pure conviction behind his words.

"...Thanks...anyway. I hadn't been thinking about it but in truth it's a huge weight off my mind. I know I'll have to...go back...eventually. And knowing I won't have to fight through their ghosts is of some comfort." The fact that they were all gone hit me once more, but it didn't hurt as much as it had in the past. Did that mean I was forgetting or coping? I'd been trying to push it to the back of my mind. The deaths of everyone you'd ever known wasn't something to simply be shrugged off, I knew that well enough, but time wouldn't wait for me to adjust. Neither would this war. I thought back to how I'd been acting over the past few days and there, in the shelter provided by his arms, I came to terms with the fact that however painful, however unfair, however _wretched_ this whole situation was, it was mine to deal with. No amount of bickering or rebellion or belligerency would change that. Somehow it was so much easier with him standing there.

I looked up and my mind filled with all the things I desperately wanted to say to him. I didn't know if I could find the words, but at the very least I could try. Not here, though. I laced my fingers through his and led him back to his room. There was still a strange kind of tension in the air that came with two people not quite knowing how to act around one another. Once more I didn't know what 'we' were, not after my words before. And he simply looked at me as if he expected me to tell him. I supposed after my behaviour I owed him that much, at least.

"About...Neverwinter, at the ceremony..."

"Evelyn, it's alright, I under—"

"No, please, I couldn't...I couldn't live with myself if I didn't apologise to you. I didn't mean a word of it." I hated apologising, and even though I meant what I said with all my heart I still couldn't look him in the eye as I spoke. "All those...those _stupid_ things I said...I don't know why I said them; they weren't true, not even close to it. And the worse thing is I...they were pretty much the opposite of what I really think." I sighed, annoyed at my own lack of eloquence as I raked my hair back with my hand. "I respect you more than anyone else, including myself, and I hate that I made you think otherwise. I...don't really know what else to say. I'm not sure there's much else I _could_ say except...I _am_ sorry. And...and I can't tell you how shocked I am that you're even letting me say this..." A smile tugged at his lips and he shrugged slightly.

"Wouldn't you?"

"I don't know. I can't imagine you ever being so stupid and...I guess I'm just not as nice as you are." I found myself smiling as well, and the tension dropped instantly. This time he took me by the hand and pulled me down next to him as he sat on the bed, his arm cradling my shoulders.

"I'm just happy you're back in one piece."

"No thanks to you," I teased, hearing him chuckle as he shook his head.

"You're impossible to please."

"I thought you liked a challenge?" There was a pause, and he regarded me curiously with a small, faraway smile.

"Is that how you see yourself?" I considered this for a moment, wondering all the while, despite his question, if that was how _he_ saw me. I liked to think, by now, that I knew I was more to him than a project, something he could fix, but the nagging doubt still remained... how could someone like him fall for someone like me?

"I don't know anymore. I don't know much, really, everything keeps changing. Mostly for the worse..." my eyes flicked back up to his "...sometimes for better." I wanted to tell him everything. About how I desperately wanted this to be over, but was scared that the second it was, if I survived, I wouldn't know how to deal with this new, frightening world without a sword in my hand. I wanted to tell him that I'd never felt this way before, and I didn't care if that was the bards talking because it was true, and that was what scared me. I didn't even want to let myself think about the fact that when I thought he'd gone for good, it felt like I'd lost everything that was good in my life. Because that was what he was, now.

But for once, I knew it couldn't be about me. I leant my head on his shoulder and grasped his other hand with mine.

"You left so quickly...must've been right after you got back to the Keep..." I left the unspoken question hang in the air.

"It was...I don't know why, I just didn't want to stay there and wait around..."

"For me to get back?"

"That too. Not because I didn't want to talk to you, I've just never been able to be idle, especially not when something...like what happened was on my mind. Battle is so much simpler. I suppose I knew I'd accomplish nothing by fighting my thoughts...so I found an enemy instead." That was a much smarter way of looking at it. When there were no more enemies to fight, _I_ turned to friends and fought _them_ instead. All right, so Elanee was never really a _friend_ as such, but she was still an ally, and she had left because I'd been too damned impatient. I shivered as I realised just how close I came to losing him for the same reason. But it wasn't about me, it wasn't even about _us_. I'd finally figured that out, and marvelled at how long it had taken me. They always said experience was the hardest school, but fools like me would learn in no other.

"It's just like before...guess I'll never learn..." he started again.

"Before?"

"Before I met you. When I was in the Well. I was fooling myself thinking I was there just for the good of the people. I was just running away again from my duties, from what I was supposed to be doing. I hoped somehow that by helping those villagers drive out the Orcs, it'd even things out again, make up for the fact that I'd completely gone against everything I'd been taught, deserted. It was so much easier to just forget about everything and take my conflicts to the battlefield. For a time it almost worked, but 

then it became clear that no amount of battle was ever enough. Every time I came out alive, I saw the piles of dead orcs and was reminded of why I was there in the first place...every time. I wanted to do good there... I'd have died fighting in those mountains if I'd had my way, but death never came. A good thing, too, but at the time it was...unbearable. I couldn't face Neverwinter, I could barely face myself...I didn't know who I was anymore. The orcs kept spilling from the caves, and all I knew was that I was a warrior, that I could fight them. And I did...until...until I met you."

"Casavir...why did you leave the order?"

He was silent for a while before he spoke in a low, tired voice, distant as the memories flooded back. "A woman."

I lay down next to him, settling myself in the crook of his shoulder and resting my forehead against his neck as he spoke. For once, I was the listener, and he had so much to say.

He told me her name was Julia, that they'd met when she, a priestess, accompanied his order on a small mission. She was quiet, slight, dark and beautiful, and of course it wasn't long before...well, he let me figure that much out for myself. She was moved permanently to his order after a time, meaning they went on most field missions together, she as a healer and he as the newly instated Paladin he'd been at the time, eager to serve his order however he could. But, and such is the way of things, it was never fated to last.

A string of attacks and counterattacks had left him recovering from a near-fatal wound in Neverwinter while she went on a mission without him. Perhaps it was for the best in retrospect, as out of the thirty sent, only one managed to hobble to the nearest village before he died to tell of the orcish ambush. Disaster. Of course they ordered him explicitly not to go after then. And, of course, he went anyway, the first in what was to be a string of acts of defiance too strong to go unnoticed. She was dead, as he'd expected, but freshly so, more recently than the others. And her body was not in the midst of battle, rather it was like she'd tried to take shelter, recover. Like she'd been waiting for someone.

They told him not to try and find the scattering of orcs that were left after the battle, but of course, he did. Half the force had split from the others and headed for the Well's mountains, while those that remained were wounded enough for Casavir to come out of the fight battered, but alive and victorious. He'd been disciplined for his actions. Even though they were good, they went against orders. His mentor had nothing but criticism, telling him to stay away from the battlefields for a while to concentrate on his prayers and meditations. But Casavir had always found it easier believing his own words when he prayed in the midst of a fight for justice to be done. He told me that was when he realised he couldn't wait at the temple for the rest of his life, taking orders from men who had never _seen_ battle or its consequences beyond numbers. He'd embraced the teachings of Tyr, but couldn't stand by the ways in which they were carried out by the temple. He'd seen the devastation the orcs had caused first hand, and vowed until his dying breath to stop it. They cast him out. That was why I'd found him in the Well, fighting back the darkness however he could.

"That was when I knew," he went on, "...I was never looking for revenge. Because it wasn't about her anymore, it wasn't even because I thought I loved her or that they'd killed her... I killed hundreds of _them_ but none of it changed anything. I still felt the same. Empty, purposeless... I hated the order's ways, the ways of Neverwinter, but without them I had next to nothing. They were all I'd ever had. I knew I wanted to do something about all those that were killed needlessly and mercilessly. It angered 

me so... and then you came along. I find myself doing more here than I ever was by myself. I'm answering to you, not some nameless, faceless protocol that cares nothing for the soldiers that die. It...is a great comfort."

Something changed in the atmosphere, and I knew it was my turn to speak. Only I didn't know what to say. It made so much more sense now. No wonder he'd been so reluctant to start anything with me, with another comrade in arms who could be lost to battle just as easily. No wonder he'd been uncomfortable with the alliance of our cause to Neverwinter's forces, with the pouring in of priests of Tyr from the city to aid us. Once more I was astounded that he was still with us, with me, after he'd had to put aside so much discomfort.

"You left the temple, but you still had Tyr's blessings upon you, and you still wielded his magic. Was that not an indication that you were on the right path?"

"I didn't know what to make of it. I never understood entirely how it worked. We weren't meant to – we were simply taught to believe. Even though my faith had been shaken by leaving the order, I still believed in his tenants, as I do now. I do not know truly where I would be if I found my God had abandoned me as well. It was what I held onto even as I knew throwing myself into battle, I was seeking death. I led so many men into battle, none of them having any idea how lost I was myself. I knew it wasn't right for me, what I was doing, but it was all I had. I knew that if I stopped for just a moment to think it would all collapse around me. And now... it is different."

"You still sought a battle, though..." I said quietly, simultaneously curious as to why and desperately afraid of what the answer might be.

"It was different. Before I fought to forget, to find a purpose. But as we fought our way into West Harbour I knew I had a purpose already, here. And I didn't want to forget." His eyes searched mine, and I felt my heart seize up as I exhaled a short, fluttery breath.

"I'm...glad," was all I could think of. At least it was true. "If you don't feel right about what you're doing then chances are it's not right. But when you find something you truly believe in, and you fight for _that_ instead of just because you have to...it must be the greatest thing in the world." I paused, realising that that very feeling was what had been missing before. And now, as I looked at him, and thought about all the other people in this Keep and beyond counting on us winning...I knew I had found it. "I'm glad you at least feel right about what you're doing here. With us. I mean...with the Keep and everything."

"I do," he said simply. That stare of his said so much, but I didn't know if I understood it yet. So many things were unsure in these twisting, changing times, I thought as I tilted my head to press my lips against his, but here at least was something I could be certain of.

I'd never understood those that swore a vow of chastity so they could devote their lives to their gods. How could they feel so passionately about something when they didn't even know what passion _was_? 'The paladin and the Sunite' sounded like the title of some filthy tavern song, but it was working out pretty well for the two of us thus far... Well, that was a lie. I didn't know if we were an 'us', yet, but what little there had been of 'us' was mostly awkwardness and me shouting... but the rest... I moved apart and opened my eyes, nudging his nose with mine as I broke into a smile... the rest was good. Very good. I kissed him again, this time letting myself forget for just a while that I didn't know how to act and pretending that he was someone I didn't care about losing, that he was just another of the fleeting 

romances I'd been so quick to burn through over the years. I'd been so wary before because I knew I was scared of it all, scared of him and the thought of letting myself give in only to lose him in the end. But once I stopped thinking about him as someone I had to impress, to _behave_ around, and started thinking of him as a man... it was easier. And if there was _anything_ I knew about men...

I slid my thigh over his hips and shifted my weight so I straddled him, my hands grasping at his hair, his neck, sliding down his chest to tug at his shirt. He gasped in surprise beneath my lips and I smiled even as I kissed him. My fingers found the hem of his shirt and I tugged it up, feeling my pulse quickening as his muscles clenched when I trailed over them. He tilted his head back slightly and I trailed my kisses down his neck, dragging my teeth over his skin and feeling adrenaline shake my body in anticipation.

"If...if someone comes in..." he managed though laboured breaths. I grinned as I moved down to his collarbone, my fingers sliding up his bare torso.

"S'locked," I explained eloquently. What could I say? I was a fast worker and I knew what I wanted. All right, so I hadn't anticipated this turn of events, but a small, overworked part of me had really, _really_ hoped something like this would happen.

"Evelyn..." And then, shockingly, his hands stopped on their long pilgrimage downwards, and he told me no. I was outraged, but I stopped myself from reacting by reasoning it was just the utter humiliation at being told to back off a second time, especially because _I_ was the woman. As far as I knew the word 'no' wasn't in most men's vocabulary when it came to me. I hadn't been here with _many_ men, but not a single one had let it pass without telling me how it was all they'd dreamt of since they'd set eyes on me. But... he wasn't just anyone else. Maybe...he didn't find me that attractive? Of course it was a possibility, but not one I'd entertained seriously for more than a few seconds. I'd always been beautiful, but then the last year had changed me almost beyond recognition. The thought was a new and frightening one, because I sure as hells couldn't count on my winning personality to get myself a man. His lips touched mine again for the briefest of moments, and suddenly everything was alright again. My impulse was still to run for the hills instead of letting him explain, but I'd learned through my fair share of blood, sweat and tears that it was never a very productive way of doing things.

"What is it?" I asked quietly, marvelling how level my voice was. He propped himself up on his elbows and I sat back, relaxing my posture as I prepared myself for the worst. For a single, heart-stopping moment I wondered if he _hadn't_ taken a chastity vow.

"I just... don't want it to be like this," he said after some time. Well, at least it was a blessing that the words 'I can't' hadn't made an appearance yet...

"Like what?" I shot back immediately, all too aware of the blood coursing nervously through my veins. He didn't answer. "It's not like my father's going to scold you or something. I might still be a kid in his eyes but I'm old enough to know my own damn mind." I smirked to offset the heat rushing into my voice. "Just...just tell me you don't want this and I'll forget about it, all right?" Immediately he sat up, resting his forehead against mine and pulling me closer as he wrapped his arms around my waist.

"You know I can't do that." His eyes smouldered with heat, and I had to catch myself from shivering even as I felt goosebumps blaze a trail across my skin. All right, so he did want this as much as I did. I noticed absently that even as I sat straddled on his lap he still bent his head ever so slightly to be level with mine. My breath caught in my throat as I tried to think of something to say in response. Exhaling 

would be a start. I let out a long, shaky breath and thought of cold, miserable winter evenings to dull the fire raging inside me.

"Then...why?" I whispered again with a smile, my face inches from his.

"I..."

Seemed like I'd need a more direct approach.

"Stop thinking about how to say it so I won't get angry." He gave an embarrassed chuckle, realising he'd been caught, before sobering up and looking straight through me with that ocean blue stare of his.

"Because... I don't want that to be all there is."

"What? Casavir if all I wanted was a bedwarmer I wouldn't be _here_..." It came out before I could stop myself. I didn't say them out loud, but the words 'I'd be with Bishop' seemed to hang in the air as if I'd shouted it to the world. "I'm sorry," I added quickly, "I didn't mean it like that. I just don't want you to believe I think of you like...that. It's just...as stupid as it sounds it's pretty much all I know. I've never been much good at anything beyond it. Never really gave it a chance, I guess. I don't know what that'll make you think of me, but...there it is."

He told me of course he didn't care. He knew who I was before, but more importantly he knew who I was now. Of course he wanted more, he was only human, but...but the middle of a war wasn't the time. Not when everything was so uncertain, so undecided.

When _had_ everything turned upside-down? I'd started off on a grand adventure, to save my village, to be famous... and now I was a Knight-Captain leading a failing war effort against an army that would probably kill us and everyone we'd ever known in a matter of weeks. It wasn't romantic at all. And it would only be bard-worthy if we won. Or if any bards remained alive to tell the tale. The keep was freezing and draughty, without any convenient ivy-covered balconies or blazing sunsets to gaze out on that weren't blackened by the shadows on the horizon. I was bruised and beaten, and I had more than a few scratches and old wounds from battles past. The soldiers were scared, the people were terrified, and everyone in charge knew we were losing. And yet, in the midst of all of this, I had him. His body was so warm, and his voice calmed me down whatever it was he was saying. If only to keep my sanity, I wanted to hold on to him for as long as I could. Even if he _was_ the only man that had ever said no. I kissed him again, feather light, and told him thank you. For what? It didn't matter. For everything.

We settled back onto the bed and the lazy conversation moved to lighter things. I smiled to myself as I lay draped on his torso, all the while cursing the wasted months we had together as awkward travelling companions. He chuckled to himself at some catty comment I'd made, and we fell silent.

"Evelyn... about...the knighting ceremony..." he began, unsure.

"I'm still sorry, if that helps," I said immediately. I didn't want to bring it up, because I still hadn't made my peace with the whole situation yet. I didn't think I was a knight, but Neverwinter seemed to deem me worthy. So was that the only thing that mattered? After the war, then maybe I could figure it out, along with a host of other things.

"No, I mean... you don't have to tell me, but why did it have such an impact on you? I know you care little for titles, but in the end surely a title is all it is, not a death sentence."

"Because," I started, biting my lip as I thought of a real answer, "because I'm...scared." That was a start. I looked up into his eyes. He deserved more. "I'm scared that everything's changing so quickly that I'm changing with it, and I don't know what I'm changing into. I'm scared I've already given too much of myself to Neverwinter, to this mission, this war...and then there's you..." _'I'm utterly terrified that someday soon if I don't make you stop I'll say something I can't live up to. Or worse, you'll say something you can't possibly mean and I'll say it right back.'_ How had I changed so much in such a short time? Why wasn't I willing to pick this up and drop it when it suited me?

'_He's the only one who actually cares enough to say no,'_ said a quiet voice in the back of my head that answered me, '_and that's worth...'_

I'd read enough books to know a big, fat cliché when it was staring me mockingly in the face, and I refused to even let the next thought form in my mind. I didn't believe in soul mates, or truly happy endings, or true love. Come to think of it, I didn't think much of love at all. Something wringed my stomach and told me that up until a few weeks ago I'd been convinced that the whole world was lying to me, conspiring against me to make not only me but also themselves believe that they were perfectly happy, perfectly in love, that it solved every little problem that sprung up in life. I'd known for a fact that it was little more than a strange, fuzzy state of being that engulfed two people in a sea of endearments and empty promises.

Things were different now. I had a taste, and it was still there, sitting on the tip of my tongue and begging another.

"Why are you so scared?"

"Because!" It seemed a good enough answer to anything. "I'm...not all they think I am. They believe I'm this great heroine who'll somehow stop this impossibly huge army from engulfing the entire sword coast in darkness, but how in the hells am I supposed to do that? They think I'm just some pretty face with a strong arm...they don't want to know the rest. They don't want to know that I'm a person, I'm just another woman, just as weepy and needy and weak as everyone else. They want someone to depend on, to look up to, and it's not me. I don't even know what I'm doing half the time. I've said it to myself enough times to know it's true. And you..." I caught myself smiling, "you're too good to be with someone like me." His hand cupped my cheek and made me look him in the eye again.

"Let medecide that..."

He kissed me, and for another timeless moment I cared nothing for the rest of the world. I had everything I needed right there with me.

-+-+-+-+-

There was a lazy, faraway smile draped across my face as I made my way back to my room. He'd noticed me yawning in the middle of every other sentence and had sent me to get some much needed sleep. My aching body was grateful, even if the rest of me resented the separation after so much time wasted in uncertainty. There would be time after all this was done, he promised me. I believed him, and left it at 

that. The Keep didn't seem as cold as it had before, and as I walked through its halls, I thought to myself that a castle didn't need turrets to be in a real-life fairytale. If I was outside and trusted myself not to fall flat on my face with exhaustion, I probably would have skipped.

I rounded the last corner and almost collided with a man coming the other way. I stepped back and looked up into his deep, dark eyes, forgotten feelings suddenly rushing back.

Even so, the first words that sprung to mind were 'you again?' I allowed myself that as a small victory. Even now I could see writ large on his expression that he thought he held me in the palm of his hand. I straightened my back. I was a Knight-Captain, and I was in control of the disjointed, chaotic series of events that was my life. He would _not_ derail me again.

"Excuse me," I said courteously. His eyebrow rose a fraction. I moved to side-step him and in a split second he was in front of me again. "I'm tired, Bishop," I added.

"So soon?" His voice was an echo of our exchange in the Flagon so long ago. Then, I was a moment of weakness away from taking him up on his offer. Now, things were different. _I_ was different. I didn't answer. "I know. I saw you last night. This morning. What's got you so shook up, princess?" His voice was just as inviting as I remembered. And I'd have been lying if I said I didn't, for that moment, regret never giving in and hearing it under _entirely_ different circumstances. It wouldn't have been worth it, though. That much I knew.

"Why do you call me that?" It was a perfectly valid question. 'Princess' was what the others called Qara, and it fit her perfectly. I wasn't spoilt, I wasn't rich, I wasn't pampered, and though I could be a right brat at times it was hardly enough to deserve the nickname.

"What, you got something you'd rather I call you? _My lady_?" His voice dropped into that painfully accurate imitation of his rival once more. I gritted my teeth together but refused to let my frustration show on my face. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he could still get a rise out of me.

"That'd work. 'Captain' would be fine, too. 'Your employer' if the rest of it's too complicated."

He smirked."I see they _didn't_ strip the rest of you down when they gave you that title." I was sick of having this discussion again. I knew he didn't like the fact that I was changing day by day from the girl he'd met in the Flagon. Now I was ashamed of those things I'd said to him that drunken evening a lifetime ago, and I was pretty sure he knew it.

"That a compliment? I can never tell." I wanted him to leave, I realised. And for once it wasn't just because he made me think things I knew were bad for me, or because I couldn't deal with him being there... now it was because I wanted some sleep, and he was between me and my bed.

"Hah. You never were too bright, Evie." There was no way this was going as he wanted, and I let myself feel smug before I remembered having one up on him wouldn't get me anywhere.

"Bright enough to know when I'm wasting my time." I made to move past him again, and once more he stopped me with his shoulder. "_Move_, Bishop."

"Why're you still here, huh?" His voice was a step above a whisper in my ear, laced with something 

suspiciously like desperation. I caught myself from the impulse to shiver and turned to glare at him.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I snapped. I wanted to point out that _he_ was the one standing in my way, but I had a feeling that wasn't what he meant.

"You're not gonna win. You have to know that, right? Everyone else here does." So _that_ was what this was all about...

"Course I know it," I replied, trying to sound nonchalant. "Unlike _you_, though, I'm at least trying to change it."

"Nothing you or anyone else can do to change things, _Cap'n, _and you know that well as I. I said from the start I ain't waiting round to get killed. Battle's getting closer, means there's less time to get away."

"Go." He didn't answer, but his eyebrow twitched, asking me to elaborate. "If you want to save your own hide so badly just get out of here and don't come back. You paid your debt, whatever the hell it was, and you're free to go whenever you damn well please."

"You want me to?"

"No. I've lost enough allies for one week." I told myself that was the only reason. Maybe if I believed it enough it'd be true.

"_Allies_, is it? Don't flatter yourself, girl."

"If I'm flatterin' myself what in the hells are you still doing here?" There was silence, and I knew I'd caught him again. I wasn't used to having the upper hand, and I wasn't quite sure what to do with it. The old me would have waved it in his face. Now, I was tired of it all.

"The paladin show up?" he asked suddenly. I could have ended it there by telling him _exactly_ what the paladin had done, but something made me hold back. There were some parts of me I doubted I'd ever be rid of.

"Why does that matter?"

"Just wondering if he's got anything to do with..." he jerked his head towards me "_this_. Can't think what else would make you freeze up like that stuck-up sergeant of his." I gritted my teeth and shoved past him.

"Stop trying to get me angry."

"Worked last time..." I stopped in my tracks. Of course he couldn't resist dangling my..._lapse_ in front of my face. I doubted he'd stop until I sent him away entirely. But I knew I couldn't. We still needed him. And I _hated_ the fact that I didn't want to see him go just yet. I hated that change came so fast and so slow all at once. I slammed the door to my room without glancing back and stalked over to the basin, splashing the freezing water onto my face to shut out what had just happened. Of _course_ he still had a hold over me. I was naive for thinking otherwise. I thought I'd made a choice once and for all. And I was _happy_ with my decision... I just wished it hadn't been so hard when it should have been so clear. And 

now it should have been the easiest thing in the world to ignore him, to send him away, even. I told myself once more that we needed him, but in truth I doubted he could do anything useful that my father couldn't do better.

I looked up into the small, scuffed mirror hanging on the wall in front of me and took in the way my skin was pulled tight over my thinning face, how my eyes were puffy and red, with large, dark bags streaking the skin beneath them. I sighed heavily, at least allowing myself to smile at the events of the rest of the day. Casavir had been right. What I needed wasn't a distraction, it was sleep. I sank into my surprisingly soft bed, pushing aside all thoughts of the ranger in favour of another until, with a smile on my face, I just... stopped thinking.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

"Be _careful!_ Gods, I'm not a sack of flour you know!" That voice. I swear if she said one more thing in that high, bratty voice of hers I'd punch her in the throat.

I gritted my teeth as Qara continued to limp beside me, one arm gingerly around my shoulders like she was afraid she'd catch something. We'd killed Sydney Natale eventually. Qara had proven useful for once and kept her busy while I picked off the underlings she'd brought along. And then, as I buried my blade to the hilt in that double-crossing Luskan whale, Zhjaeve's spells spent on keeping me alive, the sorceress had the nerve to complain that I hadn't taken them out fast enough. Because of course it was my fault she'd sprained her damn ankle tripping over herself.

"Shut up," I seethed, "just shut up. We're here." The sentry by the gates, seeing my plight, immediately rushed over to take her sorry carcass from me. She looked at him and her lips curled back in disgust.

"Ugh! Have you been _drinking_? These peasants, how can you employ them? No, _don't_ touch me, I—"

"Remind me why I didn't leave you there?" I asked, more of myself than Qara. It was hard to imagine the gith looking anything but neutral, but as she nodded farewell to rest I could have sworn her lips were curved up in amusement behind her veil. The sound of Qara complaining was little more than a hum in the background as I turned to the courtyard to see we were the centre of attention. Kana was there, looking at me expectantly. Suddenly I remembered why I'd gone in the first place. I reached into the pouch on my armour and held the battered scroll aloft triumphantly. "Got 'em!" I grinned, feeling a spark of hope for the first time in a long while. If we could kill the shadow reavers with their true names we could at least _pretend_ we still had a chance. Who knew that weedy little Luskan I'd made sport out of ignoring would turn out to be so useful? There was a spatter of applause from the few soldiers and workers assembled. Most of them probably didn't know what it meant, but any progress these days was good news. Kana, for once, looked pleased.

"Excellent, Knight-Captain! Though I see the encounter was not as peaceful as we'd hoped..." Her eyes slipped to Qara, who was still kicking up a fuss.

"Finally!" I heard her exclaim in frustration before sitting huffily on a crate and thrusting out her ankle at... I smiled as I saw who had come to greet us. Casavir looked at her for a moment, disbelieving, before kneeling and taking the proffered limb in his hands to heal.

"Sydney's dead," I offered by way of explanation to Kana, "She didn't think we were _useful_ enough to remain alive." The officer had learnt over the months not to push me for details where it wasn't necessary and let it be.

"Fair enough. When you have time there are a few things that need your attention, but it is not urgent. You should have time to rest, Captain. You have certainly earned it." With that she bid me good day and left for the main Keep. I turned to the scene unfolding around the hot-headed sorceress and scowled as I approached. The brief burst of light from his palms ceased, and immediately Qara sighed and pulled her ankle back, striding off without so much as a thank-you.

"That ungrateful little—"

"Forget it, my lady." He smirked, and I smiled in return, instantly forgetting about the day's explosive beginnings. "You are unharmed?" He asked, taking my hand as if inspecting me for damage, and running his thumb over my knuckles. I shrugged.

"I was half expecting a fight. It was nothing we...well, _Zhjaeve_ couldn't deal with."

"Good to hear. I was—" Casavir was cut off by a ragged cry just beyond the gate.

"Captain....Captain!" I spun round to see a scout sprinting towards me, his face hot with the exertion. Well if it wasn't _one_ thing it was another...

"Calm down, catch your breath," I said, jogging towards him and holding out a hand with the hope of slowing him down. He nodded gratefully as he leant his hands on his knees and panted.

"Shadow...Reaver...camp...south..."

"A camp?" He nodded, forcing his breathing to slow.

"Only one...Reaver...few others... though..."

"What are the others?" He shrugged tiredly as he righted himself.

"Shadows...spirits."

"What's the rush?"

"They're moving." His eyes met mine, and they were wide with exertion and fear. He must have barely made it away... I patted him on the shoulder reassuringly.

"Then we can't waste time. You know Bishop?" He nodded. They _all_ knew Bishop, or at least knew to stay away from him. But, like it or not, he was the best tracker we had when my father wasn't around. "Find him, tell him where it was. We'll take care of it." So much for a leisurely afternoon... I looked down at the tightly bound scroll in my hand. Time to try out my new toy...

-+-+-+-+-

A single ray of sunlight parted the growing mass of clouds and illuminated the song portal at the hill's summit. Yesterday the Shadow Reaver had been defeated. Not just banished, or dispersed, but defeated. A spark of hope was ignited in all of us, and our trek the next morning to the ancient valley of Nololoth didn't seem like such a chore once it became clear that we _could_ make progress. That meeting had been a revelation, and still my thoughts were with the mighty dragon, forced to live out the last years of a powerful and legendary existence in isolation and weakness. Now, we had reached the song portal to take us back to West Harbour...and to re-forge the Sword of Gith.

Ever since I'd learned the origins of the shards I carried I'd wondered how long it would be before it transpired that the only hope of victory against the armies of Shadow was the great blade itself. It didn't matter that we didn't have all of it, or that one of the pieces was still firmly lodged in my ribcage. All it meant, according to Zhjaeve and the dragon, was that it would only be effective in my hands. I figured it'd be something like that. It always _was_. When Shandra had come along I was convinced it was _she_ that this little tale of ours revolved around – I was just a sideshow. It made sense – she was the last descendent of a bloodline that turned out to be incredibly important, she was beautiful, naturally talented, she was fleeing from a destroyed home... just like I was.

I was coming to terms with the fact that I'd be the one to ultimately decide who won this war, but it was a slow and painful process. Even if we lost the battle that everyone knew was coming, Garius wouldn't let some peon have the honour of gutting me. He seemed like the kind of archvillain who'd want to do it himself. It was both a comforting safety net and a horrible way to pile on the pressure...

"I can activate it once more, _Kalach-cha,_" Zhjaeve said quietly as we reached the portal, "if you are ready?"

What a question. I looked down at my blade – old, battered, stained, but still sharp and loved. It'd been with me throughout this whole little adventure of mine, with new enchantments and additions made, but still the same loyal sword that I'd left West Harbour with. Taking up the Sword of Gith was something I wasn't sure I was cut out for. It had a history, and a bloody one at that. I wouldn't just be a Knight-Captain of Neverwinter anymore, either, I'd be one of the Blade's wielders. Going down in the history books was something I'd dreamed of as a child, but now that it was a real, reachable possibility...

I lifted my head to face Zhjaeve and the others, and my eyes caught Casavir's barely seconds since she'd spoken. If my experiences with him had taught me anything it was that nothing was achieved by stalling. It didn't matter if I thought I was ready or not – it wasn't a choice anymore.

"Do it." I nodded at the portal, and as she chanted it burst into life, colours dancing in its depths.

-+-+-+-+-

For an artefact as notorious as the Sword of Gith, the 'ritual' to reforge it seemed surprisingly simple. But of course there was another challenge to be overcome here...

West Harbour was hauntingly quiet as we stalked through its blackened remains. The bodies were gone, and no longer stared at me with their accusing eyes. The smell had gone, too, and now there was just the musty damp of the swamp mingled with something...darker. The Shadows had taken this place too. It had always been a little dark, but now the gloom gathered in every corner, and dripped like blood from the mangled tree branches. It should have been the stuff of nightmares, but the rush of fear and confusion and the sudden urge to vomit wasn't there anymore. There was nothing left for me here. They were gone...and that was alright. Not for the first time since I'd stepped through the portal I wanted to thank Casavir for everything he'd done. But of course this wasn't the place, nor the time, and we hardly had the right company. Still, it was surprising how much comfort I got out of knowing that there was someone beside me who thought I was doing the right thing, who believed in me. Had he not been there I doubted I'd have remained so detached to the scene of stale carnage.

Whether through respect or a lack of words, no one said anything, even as the negative energy wove through the air like a creature all of its own, searching and probing. And then, there it was. A black scar on the earth where the force of the blade splitting into shards had scorched the earth. But, of course, it wouldn't be that easy. I stopped in my tracks as the air in front of me seemed to solidify for a moment, translucent colours that shouldn't have been there swimming, taking shape...

"Where did you go?" Suddenly, she was there, as if she'd never left the place. I suppose she never had...

"Aimee..." I couldn't help myself, even as I reasoned that she was long gone, I still felt a pang of sadness, regret for not being able to save her. "You're dead. I buried you," I said matter-of-factly, not sure whom I was trying to convince.

"_Where_ did you go?" Her voice was angry now, accusing, a tone she'd never taken with anyone, least of all me. "We were supposed to leave _together_! You promised! You said that one day we'd—"

An arrow thudded into her ribcage, and I gasped in surprise. It was one of Bishops, and for a moment I was angry before I realised that if he'd waited any longer I might have been swayed by the act. Still, it hurt when her pale hands flew to her chest and she choked on the blood filling her throat. It wasn't her, though. Of course not. Now I could see it clear as day, her lips twisted into a snarl and drew apart unnaturally wide, her hands faded from thin fingers to gray, shadowy claws. All at once the transformation took place, and the girl I'd known was gone, a creature of pure darkness in her place. It hissed something, but I wasn't listening. A shout from behind me and I turned to see more spring up all around us. Instinctively the seven of us formed a crude circle around Zhjaeve and the sounds of weapons being drawn filled the previously silent ghost town.

My eyes narrowed as I looked over the one in front of me. It had pulled Aimee's image right from my head, from this pace. Because of course in this place it was _her_ memory that haunted me the most. I couldn't have been expected to save the others – I was nowhere near the place. But her... I'd turned my back for a moment and she had attacked that gith, probably thinking it was what I'd wanted her to do. I _could_ have saved her, I shouldn't have taken her with me knowing she was so inexperienced at battle. Aimee had a future as a brilliant herb witch, but her powers as a mage were untried, still in their youth. If I hadn't been so preoccupied with thoughts of being a heroine she could still be alive...

I gripped my sword. But she was dead, and it would stay that way. Regret would change nothing, but the least I could do was honour her memory. I called forth the blessings of the Illefarn and unleashed the aurora chain, gaining a small measure of satisfaction from the way its body dispersed like smoke as they screeched in rage. No mercy for those that would defile the dead. The sounds of arcane magic being slung at the enemy rang out as I turned to the next one. They would all curse the day they invaded this place. I ducked a clumsy swipe from a half-formed claw, the shadow weakening as spells and swords alike cut through its form. I buried my blade to the hilt in its midsection and dragged it upwards, its body thrashing as the tendrils of its spirit were ripped apart and it faded from existence. Another sprung up to take its place and immediately I hacked away at the pool of blackness before me. It got close enough to scratch my face in desperation. With a cry I pushed it back and swung my blade where I imagined its neck should have been, sending it to oblivion as I turned back to the others to find...there were no more left to fight. The heat of my blood pumping through me told me to find more of them and make them pay. With great effort I took a deep breath and sheathed my sword. We were here for something else.

The scar was darker than before. Now it was menacing, as black as the shadows themselves. No grass had ever grown on the cursed earth, and I remembered how, though no one mentioned it, everyone found a way to walk _around_ the patch of land instead...

"This...this is a sacred place," Zhjaeve started, coming forward, "it is here that the sword was broken, and here that it must be made whole."

"Yes, this is the place," I heard Ammon musing from behind me, "I remember. And so does the land, it seems...we must not waste anymore time."

"Heh, yeah," said Neeshka nervously, "what's the worst that could happen, huh?" I cringed, normally avoiding such questions like the plague. Generally it was because the answers were so many that it was impossible to decide what the worst would be. I tried not to think about it as I retrieved a bundle of cloth from my bag and unwrapped the shards of silver. They were positively humming, and a strange urgency bloomed in my chest. I glanced up at Zhjaeve and she nodded towards the scar. Carefully I lay the cloth on the ground, spreading the shards around. There were more of them than I remembered, but then we had found a few on those shadow reavers... still, was there enough to make a whole sword? The hilt was there, but there hardly seemed enough metal...

I decided that this, like all things, could probably be explained in the same way everything could - 'it was magical'. Who was I to know about such things? This legendary sword had one hell of a history, long before I'd ever touched it...or before it had touched _me_. It would work itself out. The others seemed to fade away as I sat myself down opposite the gith and listened to her surprisingly soothing voice telling me what to do. '_Make all that was scattered whole again – by the heart that guides the will_.' I reached down with my thoughts, to the shard inside me, and felt it come alive. Even with my eyes closed I knew something was happening. _'By the will that guides the hand._' I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt so in control, like with my thoughts alone I could be the blacksmith to forge the blade anew, to meld it together with my mind and wield it as a _true_ extension of myself...

'_And the hand... that guides the blade...'_ It was done. I opened my eyes, and for some reason wasn't surprised at what I saw. The shards had risen from the cloth and hovered above, bathed in a light that ran through the cracks and banished the darkness around. There was a strange, jagged hole splitting the middle, and I looked down suddenly, startled to see the same light ignoring my armour, my clothes, and for that matter my _skin_, and shining through my chest as part of the sword. It was then I realised the others were staring at the spectacle with mixtures of awe and utter confusion. Ammon simply looked thoughtful. With more conviction than I felt, I reached out and grasped the hilt, feeling it submitting to my will even as the light faded and I was left with a shockingly well balanced, well made, and above all well _sharpened_ blade. The moment had passed, the sword was remade...what now?

"Well. That worked," I said triumphantly, giving Zhjaeve a smile. Neeshka chuckled nervously, reminding me once more exactly where we were. Khelgar muttered something under his breath, accompanied by a raise of his bristly brows.

"You did well, shardbearer," the Gith started, "It was your will that created it, and now only for you will the sword live. No longer do you simply carry its heart," the perfectly formed gap in the centre of the blade seemed excessively large. Surely I couldn't have survived with that lodged in my ribcage... "Truly, now, you _are_ its heart."

"I...I can feel it. Like it'll do what I want without me just swinging it..." I tried unsuccessfully to communicate the very strange feeling of being able to control something that wasn't_ attached_. I looked at it, and once more light flashed along its wounds in answer. It was...incredible... "It's so powerful," I managed finally.

"No, the power is not the blade's, it is yours. Without your will, your heart, it would be a thing of shards. Its material is not important – _you_ are."

"So...when I die..."

"It will shatter once more."

"Huh," I said thoughtfully, "that's comforting." The sound of metal on metal made me turn sharply to the right where Casavir hand had shot to his sword, his eyes flitting around as if searching for some hidden danger. "What is it?" I asked immediately.

"Something...something is com—"

"_Very good...paladin..."_ The voice reminded me of a rusty nail being ripped out of a plank of wood, and I grit my teeth as I whirled around to face the creature of shadow that materialised before me. "_Tell me, shardbearer...how does it feel...to be back home?"_ It was a Shadow Reaver, no doubt about it, but it was different, somehow. Stronger...

I brought the blade up and pointed it at the Reaver, snarling, "none of your damn business, shadow."

"_And that...is the famed...blade...I see... It looks so fragile..."_

"It'll take care of you easy enough."

"_Neither I nor my master...fear poorly forged blades...or poorly forged heroes."_

"Good, I like my enemies stupid." With something that might have passed for a laugh, the creature lifted the clawlike strands of shadow in place of arms, and called forth allies from the mist. Casavir's voice was already strong and commanding as he recited a prayer. Zhjaeve joined him, and before I charged I heard Ammon's command to keep the Reaver at bay until it could be banished.

I let my will, my heart, my life flow into the blade, and it hummed with power as I tore away at the shadow, imagining what it would have done if it could have called up the dead of the village. My pulse was racing, and on top I felt the pulse of the sword, perfectly in tune with my movements and desires. It was exhilarating, and when the Reaver finally screeched its last, a thin ray of hope blasted through the darkness. We could do this. We could win.

Who knows? I might even survive.

-+-+-+-+-

Spirits were high as the Keep loomed at the summit of the now familiar hill. Dusk was creeping in after the day's march, and I was sure I wasn't the only one looking forward to a long, hot bath.

But, as usual, fortune had other plans. The sounds of steel on steel and the shouts of battle reached my ears just as Bishop grunted in annoyance behind me.

"Typical. They must've known you were gone." He notched an arrow as the others grudgingly pulled out their weapons.

"Wait, you don't think…" Neeshka's worried voice forced a tight ball of dread I'd kept subdued to rise to the surface. Their main force would be coming soon, and the war would end either way. This wasn't it, though. Probably just bandits. Sure, that sounded about right...

"It's a shadow," Casavir said suddenly, his forehead creased in concentration. "I think so, anyway." His eyes met mine urgently as realisation dawned. "They don't have a copy of the true names in the Keep. They won't be able to kill it."

"I'll go on ahead," I said, already breaking into a jog, "get yourselves ready and catch up when you can." I took long, heavy strides up the steeper route, heading for the low, growling voice of command that sounded distinctly Dwarvish. I didn't remember seeing more than a few Dwarves in the regiments but new recruits were arriving all the time, I couldn't keep track of all—

I froze as the battle came into sight. A Shadow Reaver towered over Callum from Old Owl Well while his summoned shadows tormented men that didn't look enough like soldiers. He spotted me and turned back even as he kept striking at the creature, shouting as I ran that Highcliff had fallen. And then, his eyes went wide, and he folded up on the ground with a pained sigh. I cried out in anger as I launched myself at the Reaver, my blade shining with the holy power granted by the Illefarn. Too many. Too many had died for nothing…

The fight blurred into all the others before it as I attacked, feeling wounds opening on my hands and arms but ignoring everything but the rush of battle. A cool, healing light enveloped me suddenly, and I heard the others arrive after what must have been a matter of seconds since Callum had fallen. Arrows and spells were flung at the weakening enemy before a final, steady chant from Ammon sent the Shadow Reaver screaming into oblivion. I leant heavily on my sword, panting as I surveyed the scene around me. Casavir and Zhjaeve were already healing the wounded, helped by some of the others. Bishop scanned the bottom of the hill and the surrounding forests for any sign of enemy activity but seemed to find none. I turned back to the opposite side of the ridge where the long path to the Keep meandered downwards, and my eyes met an immediately familiar face clambering up the dusty track with some effort.

"Cormick?" My voice was hoarse and I was still short of breath from the brief but taxing battle. He seemed to sag with relief when he saw me, his sword drawn and ready to face whatever challenge arose.

"Miss Ashcroft! Gods, it's good to see you're alright…" He walked over, and I noticed he was favouring his right leg.

"Callum's dead." I said simply, nodding my head to where the dwarf lay lifeless. Cormick winced, but nodded with the air of one whom had seen far too much in too short a time to be fazed by anything.

"We'd be dead ourselves if it weren't for him. He saw that creature first, distracted it so we might make it to the Keep."

"We?" It was only then I noticed the small trickle of villagers making their way up the path. Some held the hands of their children like lifelines, others were injured and supported by friends. "From Highcliff…"

"Aye. And some of the Mere villages too. A lot of people stopped off on their way to Neverwinter, fleeing the south. And then..." He bared his teeth angrily, "then they got wiped out anyway. There's barely a quarter of us left."

"You did well. Go up to the Keep with the villagers, they'll take care of you if we have any room. I'll be there soon." There was nothing more I could really say. He nodded briskly and joined the people on their pilgrimage to the Keep. "You guys too," I said a little louder, turning to my companions but keeping my eyes on the miserable looking refugees. "Head up and get some rest. If this is any indicator it looks like we'll be needing it." Not a word was spoken as they did what I asked. I felt a hand on my shoulder and heard Casavir telling me not to neglect myself either in a quiet voice. I assured him I wouldn't, but doubted that would be the case. It had been a long, long couple of days. I looked down at my brand new Sword of Gith as Casavir headed to the Keep, and then to Callum's corpse, wondering if the gains would ever outweigh the losses.

With a sigh I wandered over to the side of the path to check up on the stragglers towards the back. Their lives had been uprooted just as mine had. None of it was fair, it never was. Two women held each other as they walked, the dirt on their face streaked with tears. A man followed, radiating frustration at the helplessness they and all the others felt. Another woman behind him in a long, dark dress, clutching the underside of a heavily pregnant belly with one hand while the other held a long, simple dagger, its blade stained with dried blood, as was her dress. I looked up to her face, and as her eyes met mine my breath caught in my throat.

I remembered her looking much younger, without the dark bags under her eyes and the haunted expression they all shared. Her hair was still the same ash blonde, but it too was caked with dirt and the odd clump of clotted blood. Her mouth worked noiselessly as she stared at me, breaking through her expression of sorrow mixed with rage. She seemed to twitch, as if she hadn't slept in a while. Somehow I didn't find that hard to believe.

"Evie," she croaked out finally. Not a question, just a simple, disbelieving statement. "You're alive. All of West Harbour up in flames and you're alive. Shoulda known." Her eyes were red with unshed tears, and her voice was breaking. Wordlessly I stepped forward and took her in my arms, feeling her leaning on me for support as if her legs were about to give in.

"Kendra…" I said finally, remembering the nights we'd spent sitting around a fire after a night in one of the villages, gossiping and dreaming and forging memories of simpler times. I hadn't spared a thought for them in so long. Somewhere in the back of my mind I'd accepted that I'd never see them again. And now, here was the girl I'd prized as a friend over them all, so long ago. But we weren't girls anymore.

"Daisy's dead," she spat out angrily, "so's Marianna and Wendy. Their village got ransacked first, even 'fore mine. Don't know how I got out, don't know how I survived…" her voice cracked and I felt wetness on my shoulder where her tears had finally come. "Don't even know what's happenin'. Everyone's dead. And if they ain't then everyone they've ever known is. When they came for us, I fought back." I heard the dagger she held thud onto the ground. Slowly, I sank down with her into the grass and held her close as more of the villagers passed us by. "I just grabbed the first thing I found an' stabbed an' kicked 'til I could run. An' then I got to Highcliff, and they tell me I'm the only one. The only damn one. I figured at least some of the others would've got out, but they got caught. An' here's me fit to burst any day now and I'm still alive, when so many got killed."

"We need to get you inside." I said softly, suddenly acutely aware of the size of her belly. Unless she carried twins then she'd be in labour before the week was out.

"You too, Evie. You're alive. I heard the whole damn village of West Harbour was slaughtered – way 'fore the rest of us. Figured you'd fight back, you always did, but didn't think I'd ever see you or any of the others again. Ain't fair. It ain't fair…"

Desperately, I kissed her hair to calm the wave of tears I could feel rising up through my body. Not now.

"I know, Kendra, I know…" The last of the villagers had gone ahead, their feet dragging. Now it was only the two of us alone on the hillside. "But we've got to get back into the Keep. You'll be safe." She didn't say anything, but allowed me to help her up and support her as we walked slowly to the great gates, a skinny hand attached to her bump as if she was frightened it would disappear.

One of Wolf's boys was standing around outside the entrance, and I told him to run and get Bertha if she was still around. If I'd learnt anything about midwifery from Retta, it was that nothing was ever quite as comforting as the presence of a large, knowledgeable woman with an apron, whatever the circumstances. Kendra was a tough girl, I knew that well enough, but I could see in her eyes she was terrified, and with good cause. If I could do nothing else, I'd make sure she was comfortable at least.

Bertha appeared almost as soon as we stepped into the main courtyard and immediately set about fussing over Kendra like a mother hen. I slid a hand into her hair and kissed her firmly on the temple, murmuring that I'd be with her as soon as I could before I was accosted by assorted people in uniform. She gave me a small, brave smile as she was led off, and I gave one back as I turned to face a sea of expectant faces.

"Yes?"

"The refugees, Knight-Captain. From Highcliff," Kana began unpromisingly.

"What about them?"

"We don't have the space. It's...unfortunate." There was genuine regret in her expression, usually so neutral. "We can do the best we can to heal them and set them up for a night or two, but within a few days we must send them to Neverwinter. It isn't safe here, even if we did have the room." Eventually, I nodded my consent. It was better than nothing, and at least this time they wouldn't be chased.

"Once Cormick's patched up you can ask him about the details of the attack. In case you were wondering how our mission went, we now have a weapon that might actually work." With a flourish, I pulled the legendary Blade of Gith from the leather holster I'd crafted for my back, and held it aloft for inspection. "If nothing else, at least it'll be inspiring. Now, if you'll excuse me," I nodded meaningfully towards my dented armour, "I'll be having a rest."

"Very good, Knight-Captain." With a swift salute she turned on her heel and hurried over to the infirmary. Things just kept on piling up, one after the other. I knew I needed a good day or two of rest, but I also knew there was no way that was going to happen. My feet dragged as I headed towards the entrance to the place that had become my home in such a short time, looking up to the sun shining a final glare of light onto the courtyard before disappearing behind the tallest tower and beginning its descent in the early afternoon. The soldiers flanking the door rippled to attention as I passed through, but I barely noticed as I moved without much input from higher up to my room, where I slowly, methodically stripped away my armour, and sat with a heavy, world-weary sigh onto my bed.

I wasn't even _that_ tired. Hells, if there was an attack right now I could jump to my feet and fend them off with one hand behind my back. Well, maybe that was exaggerating – my new sword was heavy after all – but all the same I knew my exhaustion wasn't wholly physical. My body had been stretched to its limit but it was true that whatever killed you only made you stronger. I was fitter than ever, and now I almost _looked _the part of a Captain. Still, I'd never stop being amazed by the fact that I was here, now, and expected to lead an army. I was nineteen years old. Any respectable girl my age would be busy finding a husband or sewing or…whatever the hells it was they did instead of soldiering. Whatever I'd be doing if this whole _thing_ had never happened.

I couldn't wait for it all to be over. The future seemed to be this bright horizon just beyond an insurmountable wall, where praise and adulation and a smiling Casavir awaited me. But as usual this was quickly overshadowed by the fact that I probably wouldn't live to see what the future might bring. Soon, though, I would know. The end to it all was coming closer. I could feel it in the air, even the blade placed with care on a dressing table seemed to hum with awareness. I was terrified. I chuckled in the empty room at the realisation, the thought bottled up for so long that acknowledging it for real was almost a release. Fear gripped my heart whenever I was told of a new attack or news of enemy movements, just in case it was the real thing, come at last. I'd do it, though. I knew that much. I'd fight to my final breath and beyond to protect this land, my Keep, and all the hundreds, probably thousands of soldiers that fought with me. Idly, I wondered if this same fierce determination was what my mother felt as she realised she was dying to save me. She'd been a mercenary with Daeghun, and I wrinkled my brow as it dawned on me that that was all I knew about her, the woman who gave her life without hesitation so that I might have one of my own.

My body was exhausted, but my racing mind would not grant me rest so early in the day. I had a whole afternoon to myself, at least for now, and there were too many things I wanted to do. Daeghun was in – I'd noticed his glance as he leaned from his window to see what all the fuss was about – and now was as good a time as any to take him up on his offer of the truth. And then there was the convoy from Highcliff, a ragged group of villagers from the areas the King of Shadows had ploughed through with his army. And Kendra. I hadn't seen her in well over a year, almost a month before I'd left West Harbour with that damn shard. I'd never seen her look like she did. Everything we'd done before had been so lighthearted and free from the sort of worldly considerations that were felt by other people. Now, it was as if a veneer had been ripped back and I saw the world for what it was – a cold, cruel, dead place that cared little for good intentions or the sympathy of humans. She'd fought for her life with barely a scrap of training while heavily pregnant, and marched all the way here from the marshes down south. If nothing else, her tale epitomised we Harbourmen as a _tough_ bunch.

It wasn't fair...

My father's stern, scolding voice came back to me as he told me that no, it wasn't, and that no amount of wishing it were so would change it. Best to accept the way things were, he said, and put such losses behind us. That was exactly what he'd done. Hearing Duncan speak of his loss had washed over years of resentment for Daeghun's silence about what had happened. He'd dealt with it in his own way. I could understand it, now, but I wasn't the same as him. Maybe it was my human curiosity getting the better of me, but I couldn't let myself die before I knew the truth.

The wind slammed my door shut behind me as I strode down the hallway from my room, carrying the best part of my armour to be dropped off at the smithy's before heading for the room Daeghun had in the Keep. It was now or never.

-+-+-+-+-

"I wondered when you'd show up, Evelyn." He was one of the few people that actually called me by name these days. Aside from Casavir. A tiny rush of blood rose to my face as I wondered if the old elf already knew about the two of us. He turned to face me and the look in his eyes told me he knew more about this world and its workings than I ever would.

"I just wanted to...talk. You know, since there might not be much time left." My voice was quieter than normal, but then I doubted he'd be impressed by the strong, brassy tone I took with my soldiers. In answer he nodded towards the bed, one of the only things in the tiny, barren room.

"Sit down."

-+-+-+-+-

Her face held a far-off, tired look of sorrow as I silently opened the door to the room where she was staying that night. Kendra's sad, raincloud grey eyes lifted to meet mine, and her lips curved up in a forced smile. Daeghun's words had hit me hard, though I had never said goodbye to him with so much regret before. It would be a while before what he had said finally sunk in, but for now at least I could comfort another.

"They're leaving tomorrow. For Neverwinter, where it'll be safe." Her hands caressed her belly. "I can't, of course. Baby could've come any day on the march here, The matron says it's not safe for me to travel. Not safe for anyone, I guess, but I see her point."

"Who was he?" I asked quietly, sitting down beside her and sliding an arm around her shoulders. She gratefully leant into me and sighed the weary sigh of a woman at her wits' end.

"Dead, probably, so doesn't really matter. Just a fling, and I'm glad it stayed that way. He doesn't need to know, even if he did survive the attack. You didn't know him. I barely did. Still don't know if I'm thankful for...what he left."

"It's just bad timing. This will all be over soon, one way or another."

"Heh, guess you're right, Evie. Hell, if we all die at least I'll be too dead to care." I joined her chuckle, and she smiled in what looked like the first time in weeks. "I always knew that if anyone would survive this whole mess it'd be you, but I never figured they'd make you a Captain."

"Knight-Captain, now. Don't know what they were thinking either, but there it goes."

"It works, y'know? Long as they don't think they can boss you round like some army kid. But I s'pose they know a good thing when they see it, else theyd've kicked you out long ago."

"That's a nice way of putting it."

"You know what I mean, though. You've changed, we all have, but you're still the same person at heart. Don't let anything change that. Years back you were the only person 'cept for my ma I knew I could always count on. And now we're the only ones left out of all of us, I'm gonna look out for you just the same." She smirked, and ran a hand over her belly self-consciously. "I fought my way here and you know if I could I'd be right there next to you, for all the good it'd do."

"Help me by giving me one less thing to worry about, and get some rest."

"As long as you promise me you'll do the same. You never were too good at looking after yourself." I couldn't help but smile. She was right. With all that had gone on over the past two years I'd almost forgotten what it was like in our little group. I was close enough to Amie, but her living in the same village had a lot to do with it. Kendra and I had always been closer, but I'd barely spared a thought for her since we'd found the shard. Seeing her now sent a pang of guilt through me. I'd promised myself that no matter where I went, I'd never forget where I came from. Daeghun's revelations gave the idea a whole other meaning, and as I bid goodnight to my dear friend I sent up a silent prayer for all those I left behind, both in my life and in my thoughts. Rita, Amie, Shandra...my mother. Hells, even my bastard father. I prayed that wherever they were, however their life had come to an end...they were happy.

I wouldn't fail them, or their memories.


	24. Chapter 24

**A.N. I'm crap, I know. Sorry! This chapter's fluffy as hell to make up for the delay :D**

**Chapter 24**

I shot my hands out and threw every ounce of focus I had into the space directly in front of me…nothing. Again. Grumbling to myself, I tried to recall in my mind all the other times I'd had a result, and tried again. Still nothing.

"It's not working," I said simply, turning back to look at my teacher.

"Concentrate," Sand muttered idly, flicking through a thick, dusty volume with yellowing pages as he sprinkled a handful of unnaturally purple powder into a concoction slowly heating on a tripod.

"On what?"

"Just concentrate. It's not that hard, my dear, really." It was times like this I knew for a fact he didn't take me seriously and was just absorbing the goings on around him with a mixture of amusement and disdain. Currently he was leaning towards the latter.

"But I've never done this before. Not on _purpose_, anyway." That was the whole point of this little exercise. We needed every weapon we could get against the army of Shadow, and though my little bursts of sorcery were unreliable and unexpected, they were damn powerful.

"Well now's the time to learn, isn't it?"

I moved in front of him and leaned down so I was in his eyeline. He raised his gaze to mine and arched an eyebrow expertly.

"I think I need a little more tuition," I said with the sternest look I could muster. He sighed and looked up from his book, gesturing with one hand as he spoke.

"You're not a wizard, Evelyn. I can't teach you about spells because there's no point. Only _you_ know what will let you use your magic."

"But that's the thing – I _don't_ know." Well, that wasn't entirely true. Daeghun's revelations had been…_enlightening_ to say the least. That time when the Mossfelds' taunts became too much and I'd singed the grass in a neat little circle all around me when I was six suddenly made a lot of sense – as did all the times after. But though I knew where it had _come_ from, I didn't know how to make it work. A grating, insidious chuckle broke through my train of thought.

"Why am I not surprised? Not all of us can master the craft as well as I have, _Captain_." I'd almost forgotten Qara was there, what with my tendency to ignore her whenever possible. "It really is a shame. You might have been a very powerful sorceress had you the discipline."

"_You _want to talk to_ me_ about discipline?"

"You should probably get back to swinging around that broken sword of yours. If magic is _this_ hard for you to take in you shouldn't feel bad - after all, it's not _your_ fault you have all the potential but no real talent." Hearing her speak sent waves of heat shooting down my arms, and suddenly I remembered exactly what had set me off all those other times.

"Talent, huh? That what made you torch the academy?" Her upper lip curled back in annoyance.

"At least _I_ can cast a simple spell without getting drenched in sweat."

"Glad you were able to figure that out – what with you being a sorceress and all. Good thing you _were_ born with such a talent, 'cause you sure as hell wouldn't have made it any other way." I knew I shouldn't rise to her childish challenges, but I was beyond sick of keeping the peace between the two of us when she apparently cared nothing for the fact that I'd saved her ass more than once. I wanted to slap the bored, proud look off her face whenever I saw her. That was another reason I hoped this whole thing was over soon.

"The same to you_, Captain_. How fortunate that you have a natural aptitude for being an empty-headed berserker."

A retort formed on the tip of my tongue, but there wasn't time. I felt a surge of fire in my veins, and threw my arms out towards the window, slamming my eyes closed and hearing a violent explosion of magical energy even as it coursed forth from my fingertips. I opened my eyes and saw…a small gathering of sparkles. I wrinkled my forehead and spun round to see Sand fanning the smoke pouring from his potion beaker with a thin hand. The area around it looked distinctly…singed.

"Oh dear…" he said, sounding vaguely disappointed as he skimmed the book in front of him once more. Qara cackled rather than laughed, and didn't even close the door behind her as she sauntered out. I sighed. That…could have gone better. I decided pursuing my father's legacy was a lost cause, and restricted myself to my mother's rather more _earthy_ area of expertise. I lifted my 'broken' sword from its place leaning against the wall and fed it through the straps on my back, thanking Sand for his time and wishing him luck with his alchemy. The morning was young, and I figured if I couldn't control my sorcery then at least I could better control my brand new Blade of Gith. And luckily, I had someone who was practically an _expert_ among my companions. I trotted down the spiral stairs from the library into the main hall, hoping to find an idle soldier among those left behind, and finding what appeared to be several.

As I approached they fanned back with worried looks on their faces, and my posture sagged as I saw the mountain of fabric they concealed. She regarded me quickly before curling her lips into a sneer and thoroughly ignoring me. In my own damn _Keep_…

A guard hurried over to me, looking unsure, "My lady, there's…well, there's someone to see you…" The tone of his voice suggested he'd be grateful if he could busy himself elsewhere. I nodded and waved at him to carry on with whatever he wished. The speed at which he left the room left me with little doubt as to this woman's disposition. Her dress must have been made of wood for all the room it gave her sizable figure, and billowed out around her hips like a lampshade.

"Is this the maid I'm to talk to, then?" She asked in a high, wobbly voice to the room at large. "Well, girl, I hope _you'll_ be able to take me to a decent room. The service here is entirely _unacceptable_."

"What?" It was the only word that leapt forward at that moment. She rolled her eyes expansively at me.

"Precisely what I said, girl! Gods, no _wonder_ no one else is here. Go ahead and fetch me the Captain of this draughty place, will you? If I am to stay here I imagine he will ensure I am comfortable."

"I _am_ the Captain. Knight-Captain, actually. I don't know who you are, _madam_, but we can't accommodate you here. If you're a Neverwinter citizen you should have stayed there, else you should be in Port Llast."

"What a laughable suggestion! Neverwinter is simply _crawling_ with these parasites from the south, and Port Llast is no better. When I arrived there they expected me to stay in this run-down cripple of a house with room for no one else but my handmaid! Well of course that was simply unacceptable, so hearing of a supposedly 'spectacular' keep to the south that was supposed to be well guarded I made all haste to _this_ place. And I arrive to find it in much the same condition as the Port!" Her voice was more like a hoot than anything else. I pinched the bridge of my nose to stop myself from punching _hers_. She was a gods-damned parody of everything I hated about this world I lived in. I knew they existed, of course, I'd heard horror stories from the men who had worked in the palace, and from members of the Nine themselves. The nobles in Blacklake were for the most part over-fed, useless, arrogant, and incredibly powerful. It was unfortunate, I felt, that they weren't being downright _forced_ to open their doors to the refugees in Neverwinter. "Now, girl, run along and find me the Captain, will you? I shouldn't think I'll have to tell you again."

"I _am_ the Captain," I repeated. Her lips twisted in disgust.

"_You_? Well, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, considering the state of this place. Now, young lady, tell me--"

"Madam, I don't have time for this. You'll have to leave as soon as you can. There's no space for you here," I stated quietly but firmly.

"You...you would _cast me out_?"

"It looks that way, don't it?" I started walking toward the door on the other side of the room. "If you'll hurry up, that'd be good. I have more important things to attend to."

"You have _peasants_ sleeping in better rooms than the one given to me by your soldiers! Why, in my day the lower classes _respected_ the nobility!"

" Get out, _now_," I said in a dangerous tone, "or I'll have my men _take_ you out. And you can carry your own damn luggage for a change – my soldiers are tired from fighting a war on _your_ behalf."

"Do you have _any_ idea who—"

"No, I don't. And unless you plan on picking up a sword and joining us on the front lines, I honestly don't care. Now _you_," I turned to a confused-looking soldier, "see if you can find Ammon Jerro. Big guy. Tattoos. I'm sure the lady can see herself out." He nodded and fled the scene. The woman whose name I had yet to discover puffed herself up as if she'd explode any moment in a flurry of ruffles and offense.

"_Where_ is Lord Nasher?" She demanded loudly, sashaying over to me. "He is supposed to be here, is he not? I demand to see him." She crossed her arms and looked at me smugly, as if expecting me to be impressed at her name-dropping.

"He's not here."

"Then _where_ is h—"

"_He_, along with the better part of my soldiers, are in Highcliff," I spat, drawing myself up to my full height as stepped closer to her, feeling fire dance in my eyes, "fighting an enemy too horrible for you to imagine. If you had any sense you'd be holed up in Port Llast _praying_ for their victory and safe return, and thanking any _Gods_ that would listen to a parasite like you that they saw it fit you should live, though for the life of me I can't figure out _why._" I was inches from her face now, and I saw the naked fear on her face before it was schooled into something between disdain and discomfort as I moved back. "Now. Get out of my sight and my Keep, and pray you make it to the North with all your limbs."

She looked like she would speak, but apparently thought better of it and backed down. On my way out I left strict instructions with the door guards whom had been watching the whole thing with interest that she was to be bundled off to Port Llast within the hour. I had no patience for anyone who wasn't part of what had become the war effort at this point. Women like her were everything I hated about society outside of my little swamp town. When people thought they could be selfish simply because of who their parents were there was clearly a problem with the world. At least in my eyes.

Even worse, she'd reminded me of what I'd spent the morning putting out of my mind. Nasher, Nevalle, a host of officers, and several of my companions were at this moment in the thick of battle. I swallowed a lump in my throat as I strode out through the front gates. And of course they'd needed battle-hardened healers, so Casavir was with them. I could see the logic in my remaining behind in case of total massacre, but that didn't stop me from viciously protesting the order. If they were to go, I wanted to go with them, even though I thought it was a stupid idea to attack what remained of Highcliff, but it had already been decided. Had I been one of the Nine, I'd been informed with a hint of reproach, perhaps my opinion would have been worth more. But no, I was just the Knight-Captain of the place from which they were taking all their soldiers. I had been _told_ rather than asked about that.

So now I tried to fill my head with other things that would rid me of the knot growing in the pit of my stomach. '_Please, please, _please_, come back safe…'_ In a desperate attempt to banish the images of my army shattered against the Shadow's forces I thought back to the woman I'd had the pleasure of scolding. Optimistically, I allowed myself a brief glimpse of what life after this whole affair would be like. I pictured celebrations that would require I either stuff myself into a 'fashionable' dress or suit up in an ill-fitting uniform while men and women just like the bloodsucker I'd dismissed congratulated me on my efforts and discussed how difficult it had been for all of them – what with the trade routes down they probably hadn't been able to get their weekly shipments of Calishmite silks. Nasher was a good enough man…but then the nobles that swarmed around the Blacklake district were another matter altogether. Perhaps there were even those that were entirely unaware of the war being waged to the south. What a comfortable and pointless life.

"Cranky, princess?" I stopped in my tracks, collecting myself before looking over one shoulder to see Bishop had appeared behind me, just as effortlessly casual as always.

"Don't act like you didn't just hear why." He always seemed to be around, so it was a fair assumption he'd listened to the whole exchange, his smirk firmly in place.

"Didn't think she'd piss you off so much. What d'you want Jerro for?" I jerked a thumb at the sword strapped to my back as I turned to face him.

"Figured he could give me some pointers. We don't have a lot of time left." He left a significant pause before he answered.

"I know." And there it was – the reminder that any time I wanted I could leave this whole thing behind, maybe even take him with me for a little entertainment along the way. I was kidding myself if I thought it wasn't an option, deep in the recesses of my mind. Alright, so one look at the soldiers under my command or the civilians or even just Casavir was enough to sway me back to the light, but seeing Bishop just slouching there made it seem so easy. "You won't find him here, though. He's gone. Where, I don't know – I figured you'd had your way with him and threatened to slice him in half 'less he was gone by today."

"Why would I do that?" He raised an eyebrow at me and I shook my head. "Shandra won't come back to life the more I hate him. He's done enough to convince me he wants to change."

"You forgive way too easily."

"You should give it a try. Keeping track of everyone that owes me just gets exhausting after a while."

"Like me?"

"You don't owe me a damn thing. Last I checked you get your gold _after_ the mission, not before." He acted like that was the only reason he was still here. Part of me figured he wouldn't leave even if I told him to. I had a feeling being wrong wasn't a position he understood in relation to himself, especially not where women were concerned. He'd been bang-on about me when we'd met, but even I hadn't anticipated how much this course of events would change me. For the better, I thought. He obviously didn't agree. "Did Jerro say anything?" I asked before he could drag the conversation even further down this alley.

"No. Was heading back down where the Highcliff refugees came from, though. Could be anywhere to the south. I can track him if you want." I gave him a long, serious look in an attempt to gauge his intentions. They seemed genuine, but that had never really figured in my view of the ranger.

"Why?" He shrugged expansively, rolling his head away as his usual, smug tone returned.

"Maybe I just want to pull my weight around here, hmm?" He glanced at me, and must have caught on to my suspicion. "I'm _bored_, alright?" His tone, like an irritated schoolmaster to an dimwitted pupil, made blood rush to my cheeks, and I turned back to the courtyard before us, pretending to scan the skies as I pressed a cool hand to my face.

"Yeah, sure. Let's get out of this place, I'm getting jumpy sitting around like this," I conceded finally. It was the truth – watching this place sitting still and empty in the early Leafall chill was unsettling at best. I'd gotten so used to seeing soldiers and officers running about the place looking busy that I'd never seen this place looking empty – except for when we first came here to free it from the corruption within. So long ago, now. The Keep had been reborn as a place of safety. An impenetrable fortress that sent the message far and wide that we were prepared to _fight_ against this new threat. I pushed aside the nagging thought in the back of my mind that if anything happened on the battlefield today it was likely that _I'd_ be the one to lead the attack. Or the defense. We were prepared for either.

Bishop brushed past me and shot a meaningful look over his shoulder as he strode to the gate.

"Well?"

I cleared my throat in response and trotted after him, trying for the hundredth time today to push something out of my mind. I'd travelled with him before on my own. This was just like any other time. He couldn't push me around, whatever he thought. Yes. That…that sounded about right. With regret, my thoughts turned to my army in Highcliff.

-+-+-+-+-

Despite myself, I chuckled. I'd forgotten how funny he was in the time I'd spent avoiding him, and as we trudged through the undergrowth – what he assured me was a _shortcut_ – I felt the reservations I'd built up about my mouthy ranger slip away. We had more in common than I liked to think, and at least I wasn't bored, or worried about the others…

"…was his own damn fault, though. Stupid of him to think I'd do any less."

"Could he walk after that?"

"No idea. I hope not. From what I heard he had friends in Waterdeep. Wouldn't be good if he managed to drag himself there."

"Heh, like you care. Anyone he sent for revenge you'd probably send _back_ in pieces."

"Would I, now?"

"Nah, you're right, you'd make him some tea and _then_ let him cut your throat."

"If he _did_ send an assassin, they never found me. I don't like staying in one place too long waiting for death. Though you don't seem to have a problem with it."

And suddenly the conversation had swerved violently away from its previous lighthearted tone and straight into the unsafe, strange realm where he knew everything and I was some idiot girl with my head firmly in the clouds.

"Maybe I'm just lazy and want my enemies to come to _me_?" I said with a wry smile, hoping to salvage the blithe atmosphere. But it was no use.

"And that's why you'll die with all the others, _Captain_," his voice was suddenly hard and sharp, and his brows had lowered into a flat line as he turned to look at me briefly, still moving through the forest as if it were an open field. "Your choice, of course."

"And what will you choose, huh?"

"Haven't decided yet. But I imagine that'll be the least of your worries when it comes down to it. Unless, of course, you want to take the smart way out." Gritting my teeth, I caught up with him and grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to face me.

"_Stop_ asking me that!"

"What?" For a second I could have sworn he looked almost innocent.

"You _know_ what. And you _know_ that I can't!"

"No, you _can_. You just think you're too good to do it, which is an overestimation on your part."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just that you've never been in a _war_ before. You'll be scared, you won't be able to run away, and you won't even be able to stay on your feet because your healers will be too busy pronouncing the rest of your army _dead_. Meanwhile, the other army doesn't _feel_ fear, exists only to kill, and will _never stop attacking_. Just because we can take them down one by one doesn't mean we'll be able to do it forever. Sooner than you think, it'll all be too much, you'll break, everyone else will break, and then you'll die. It's foolishness to think otherwise." Roughly, he turned away from me and stalked further into the forest. I followed him at a half-run to keep up with his stride.

"Then what would you have me do? Run and hide to be killed later on as the King of Shadows sweeps across the Sword Coast?" I was rewarded with another rebuffing shrug.

"Figure it out, princess. That's what everyone expects."

"Do you?"

"No. I expect more." A long, pregnant moment passed where we simply _looked_ at each other. I opened my mouth to reply when he abruptly turned back to the path ahead and pointed to what looked like the edge of the thick forest. "That's where he is. Looks like a farm." He said no more as we made our way towards the sparse set of buildings, but as I glanced around recognition shot through me.

"It's Shandra's old farm. We're not far from Highcliff." We both stopped and listened for the sounds of battle, but there was nothing.

"Either we're further than you think, or they've moved on by now," he concluded simply. There was the sound of wood against wood from the charred farmhouse, and immediately Bishop's bow was notched and ready. I skimmed over the grass to the nearest wall, hand on a short blade by my side as I moved across the blackened stone. Carefully, I peered around, sighing with relief as Ammon's perplexed gaze met mine, his hands lifting the lid of a long wooden box, somehow still intact after the fire.

"What are you doing here?" He asked immediately, just as the thought was forming in my mind.

"Looking for you," I replied, "just didn't think you'd come here."

"Why not? What else do I have in this world? My work was everything, until you destroyed it." A retort leapt to my lips, but he continued. "Shandra was the last of my blood, until you brought her to her death."

"_You_ killed her!" I spat suddenly. "You never even _knew_ her, not like I did, so why in the hells did you come here, huh? Just to wallow in self-pity over what you've done?" He didn't reply, simply throwing the lid of the box back and reaching in, carefully pulling out a long, thin chain with a sparkling blue teardrop gem dangling elegantly from the end.

"This was her mother's," he said flatly, "My daughter. Miriam was an aspiring mage, and so I crafted this to help her. I scryed for it when you found the sword – I suppose I thought you could use all the focus you had to help you wield it." He extended it toward me, and my mouth opened further in surprise. "It should help." I collected it carefully into one slightly shaking hand, marveling at the gesture, even after my outburst. I looked back up from the gem to his blisteringly sincere eyes, and knew he would accept no argument.

"Thank you," I said softly, "thank you."

"The hell is that?" Bishop's voice was a sharp whisper that cut into the moment, making me turn on my heels with a rebuke hot on my lips before I saw that he wasn't looking at me at all. And then I smelled it too.

"Rotten eggs," I muttered, looking in the same direction he was to where the air seemed distinctly…wobbly.

"Sulphur," Ammon corrected, hands flying to his heavily enchanted dagger even as the air gave way to tendrils of violently coloured magic. Moments later, a small collection of very _large_ demons stood in its place. Even if I deliberately kept _out_ of harm's way, it seemed, I would always find a battle to fight.

-+-+-+-+-

"They're back! M'lady, they're back!" Somehow I knew, as we trudged through the Keep's gates, that his glee wasn't caused by _our_ safe return. I broke away from Ammon and Bishop and jogged towards the soldier, casting an eye over the courtyard that was now brimming with soldiers and, my heart tensed to see, healers tending to them.

"What happened?"

"I know not, Knight-Captain. The higher-ups went to the Keep straight away – word from the men is that we had to run…but I stayed back, m'am. It's me leg, you see?" I glanced down to the splint wrapped in bandaged on his right shin, and then to the crutches I'd not noticed before. "They're in the War room I think, m'am." I bid him thanks and told him to take the rest of the day off duty before jogging towards the Keep's doors. Things were bad indeed if men on crutches had to man the walls.

Trying not to alert myself to my own thoughts lest I panic, I unconsciously scanned the crowd for faces I recognised, and one in particular. No luck. Khelgar was alive and well, though, judging by the volume of his orders. I strode swiftly through the Keep's wide corridors until I came to the large, forbidding doors to what had affectionately become known as the War Room. A place where all this slaughter got _planned_. Taking a deep, calming breath, I pushed one open and slid inside, my eyes scanning the room to take an inventory of how the battle had gone.

I counted one less officer, three fewer lieutenants, and we seemed to be short one leader of Neverwinter. Finally, my gaze settled on Casavir just as his eyes rose to the intruder on their heated conversation. The rare scowl on his face lightened to a half-smile as he—

Wait. What?

"Where's Nasher?" I asked urgently, at once recognising both the sweetness and the severity of the moment and deciding the latter was of more gravity. For now, anyway.

"Recovering," Nevalle replied, his posture relaxing slightly even though his hands remained firmly planted on the table as he leant over. "He was wounded severely in the attack. They seemed to know who he was. He was lucky to escape with a broken leg."

"Is that when you retreated?" I asked neutrally.

"We had to. We were losing ground, and we had to get him to safety."

"He shouldn't have gone in the first place," Casavir said suddenly, echoing my thoughts exactly, "his presence endangered everyone, and his ability as a fighter could not make up for that. Had we not retreated when we did we stood a very good chance of reclaiming the town."

"You were against this operation to begin with, paladin," Nevalle's voice was level, but his teeth were clenched in a rare display of frustration.

"Aye, but I also said if it had to go ahead I'd give my advice. I praise Nasher for his willingness to fight alongside his troops, and his injury is unfortunate, but the fact remains that he _shouldn't_ have been there. If it was too dangerous for Ev-- for Knight-Captain Ashcroft to lead, it would hardly be safe enough for the ruler of _Neverwinter_. Because of this attack we lost many good soldiers needlessly. All we have gained in return is the knowledge that we _couldn't_ even take back one of our own settlements…"

"That is _enough_, lieutenant," Nevalle interrupted sharply, "this is _not_ the time to wish things had gone differently. We must cut our losses and move on." Bishop's words on the inevitability of our deaths came back to me in a wave of uncertainty as the Knight turned to look at me. "Knight-Captain, we returned to find you absent from your post."

"Something came up. I'm back now, aren't I?"

"In future you will follow orders _to the letter_ and not move from your post unless instructed otherwise, do I make myself clear?" There was a vicious, sarcastic twist to my lips as I opened them for a retort, but at the last second I decided against it. However much I loathed being put down in front of people I was supposed to be commanding, he _was_ senior. And as such probably knew better than I about…well…everything.

"Understood," I said simply, fighting the urge to add a cutting remark. It was a difficult time for everyone, and while I handled stress by killing something or taking leave of my senses at crucial times, Nevalle was probably dealing with his Lord's near-death by berating me. Fair enough.

"Stay behind and I'll take you to the infirmary for a full debriefing with Lord Nasher. The rest of you, dismissed." The others filed out in relative silence, Casavir stealthily sending me one last relieved look before he too disappeared. As I followed Nevalle, a feeling of annoyance prickled across my skin. Why would I need to be escorted to my own damn infirmary? It was quickly replaced by what I liked to think of as my 'official' face as we entered the room that had been set aside for Nasher.

His left leg had been set and bound heavily, and several bruises and newly treated cuts could be seen on his face and hands. Other than that he looked alright to me. It was when his eyes opened, slowly and laboriously, that I remembered he was a warrior first, and a leader second. He was also nearing three times my age. With that in mind, I shut up, and listened.

-+-+-+-

She was smoothing down her tunic even as I opened my door. Her eyes seemed to light up as they caught mine, and I found myself smiling at how simple it all was now. I reached for her hand and led her inside, my arm encircling her waist as I closed the door behind us.

"You know, Casavir, sooner or later someone's going to figure out I spend all my free time here," Evelyn said with a wicked grin. I felt her push herself up on her tiptoes as her lips brushed against mine.

"Let them talk," I murmured in response, "I doubt they'll care so close to the end." Immediately I felt her tense up and knew that was probably the wrong choice of words.

"Don't talk about that. I don't want to think about it. Not now. Hells, I probably won't want to think about it then either, but that's beside the point. For now…I couldn't care less." I felt her smile as she leant into my neck. I hugged her closer and not for the first time thanked the brief moment of recklessness that led to us becoming more than awkward companions. What 'we' actually were I didn't know, but…for now I too couldn't care less. "I'm glad you're back safe," she added at length.

"You too. I heard of your brush with the demons. It is good you had the others with you."

"Who told you?" The look on my face must have said it all, for her lip curled back and she shook her head as she leaned back against me. "Ignore him. I doubt Bishop will ever tire of baiting you. Or me." I knew it was raw jealousy that made me want him gone for good, and I did try to reason with myself that he was an invaluable addition to our group, but it still didn't make it any easier to have him there, gloating and smirking and acting as if all the world had turned in his favour. I was sure such pettiness should have been beyond a paladin, but as I had learned time and time again, I was a man first and Tyr's servant second. "I have to tell you something," she said suddenly, stepping back and looking up at me with her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Her hand still grasped mine as she sat down heavily on my bed, a crease between her brows.

"Then tell me," I replied, joining her. In all honesty I felt I knew her well enough to not be _too_ shocked by any new revelations, but then she was nothing if not surprising. She took a deep, cleansing breath and let it out in a sharp sigh, slumping her shoulders.

"I talked to Daeghun the day before yesterday. I…I figured it'd be one of the last chances I'd get to actually find out about…you know…where I came from."

"I'm a little curious myself. You never mentioned your real family."

"Well like you I don't have one. My ma's dead, though I guess you knew that, and if my real father's alive he doesn't even know I exist. Which I guess is for the better. But anyway – I asked Daeghun about my mother, Esmerelle, and…there was all this stuff. Things he'd never even mentioned, said he was saving them for when I was older, but…I don't know. Look." There was a half-smile on her face as she pulled out some crumpled sheets of aged parchment from a pocket and rifled through them before producing a faded drawing. It was a quick portrait of a woman, not many years older than me, obviously done with great care by a skilled hand. Straight, dark hair fell about her oval face like curtains, with a wide, genuine smile shaping her generous mouth. Her eyes were small but creased in happiness, with a long, rounded nose making up the face of a woman who was rather plain, but clearly well loved by the artist. A small signature in the corner started with an S, but the rest was too faded to make out.

"Your mother?" Evelyn nodded, looking at the picture as well.

"She doesn't look anything like me, does she?" Instantly I knew what was strange about the woman in the drawing. There were tiny similarities in the brow and her jaw, but that was where it ended. "Daeghun said her hair and her eyes were the same chestnut colour. Said he wouldn't have believed the two of us were related if his own wife hadn't helped my ma through labour." I knew from the way her hands wringed together nervously that there was more.

"And what about your father?" She tensed up immediately, and I slid an arm about her waist in an attempt to calm her down. "Evelyn…whoever he was, does it truly matter?"

"Well…maybe." She shrugged, rocking her head back and forth as she considered things. "I don't know yet. It's weird to think about it but it doesn't change the way I think about myself, it just sort of…explains a lot. But not in a good way. And I don't know what you're going to think, and it's Hell because…it shouldn't matter but it probably will."

"Try me?"

"Daeghun's wife, Shayla, she's the one that drew that picture. He told me she drew almost everyone she knew, and since her and my ma were such close friends there were a ton of her…but pretty much all of their things got destroyed in the fire. But there were some of Shayla's letters that survived, and one of them was from Esmerelle asking for a place to stay. Apparently she travelled around too much to have one place to call home, but then…well…I happened, I guess. Anyway, she doesn't mention who my father was, just kind of…_what_ he was." There was a long, pregnant pause.

"Evelyn, who he was doesn't have any impact on who you are. I honestly don't—"

"He was an incubus. So…yeah, he kind of does." It took a moment for it to sink in and think of something constructive to say. And then, once I remembered what an incubus actually was, the power of speech kindly took its leave.

"He…what?"

"Well, half, anyway. Or something like that. She wasn't very specific. From what I can tell I've probably got a succubus and an elf with a weird fetish as grandparents. She said she was praying I wouldn't be born with horns, a tail and wings like my father. So yes, it does have an impact on who I am now. That's where all my magic comes from, for one. And the way I look. And my temper, probably. And the fact that I've never met a devil I could look at for thirty seconds without wanting to stab them. Apparently my freckles aren't freckles, either. They're spots. Like, _demon_ spots. Funny thing, that." She sounded a little frantic, but I didn't have any words to hand that would change that.

"…oh," was all I could manage.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," she said, her voice getting closer to a squeak.

"It doesn't change anything," I said quickly, in case she mistook my surprise for disgust, "It doesn't make any difference to me who your parents were,"

"What about who _I_ am? I don't even know what I am. Does it make me a tiefling? A half-Fay'ri? Do those even exist? I mean what about the fact that most people tend to like me? Is that just because I'm a gods-damned _succubus_? What about…" her voice broke and she slowed to a whisper, "what about you?"Suddenly, I understood.

"Because I'm a Paladin, you think you're a demon, and Paladins vanquish demons?"

"Something like that, yes." She looked up at me, her wide, piercing eyes burning with an icy blue flame, her scarlet hair wild around her tanned skin, 'spots' framing her hairline. She looked so vulnerable, so desperate for approval, and so impossibly beautiful, so perfect in every way. There was none of the darkness she spoke of. Yes, it had jarred me, and yes, I was surprised, but I'd have been lying if I hadn't had similar thoughts about her origins on occasion. I thought of her fears and for a moment wondered if I was, indeed, being ensnared by the charms of a demoness.

And I decided that if I was under some kind of spell, it was certainly preferable to what passed for reality these days. And if Tyr could find no fault with the woman I held in my arms, then such a thing was surely beyond a man like me.

"Then you need worry no longer. It changes nothing." Her brow crinkled in disbelief.

"Nothing," she said flatly.

"Nothing. Why should it? You're the same person that entered this room – it would take more than such a revelation to make me feel any less for you." For a moment I was unsure and nervous, wondering if I'd given too much away with my last words, but then her anxious pout widened into a bright, relieved smile and she flung her arms around my neck before leaning up and kissing me once more. I smirked, her cheery, impish face reminding me of just how young she was.

"That's it. I'm staying here tonight. It's much warmer than my room," she said, maneuvering herself onto my lap and nuzzling my neck, all her troubles apparently forgotten. A glance at the tiny window revealed that it was indeed getting late, and after the day we'd both had an early night was looking very attractive. Even more so when I looked down at the woman I'd be sharing it with. I rocked her back and forth, smiling to myself at the little moment of peace we'd carved out of the darkness around us.

"You're still wearing your boots," I observed, craning my head down to meet her eyes, which closed tightly in protest as she yawned, hugging me tighter. She was a quick and very deep sleeper, which had always surprised me considering her nature. Still, with great effort she kicked off her thin leather boots and stretched her lean body across my bed to the solitary pillow, curling up, her eyes firmly shut, and tugging my arm to join her. I didn't need much convincing. I tugged my shirt over my head and blew out the large, solitary candle burning slowly on the bedstand before drawing her closer to me, a smile curving my lips involuntarily as I felt her yawn and plant a long, feather-light kiss against my chest.

"G'nigh…" I heard her mutter slowly, even as her breathing slowed and sleep took her. I looked up to the stars through my window, still shining in these dark times, and as I cradled in my arms the most precious thing I knew, I prayed they spelt out some good fortune for the two of us. What we had would have seemed impossible even a few months ago, but now, with death waiting for us both around every twist and turn of this warped tale, I would take my happiness as and when it presented itself. I didn't care if the woman I cared for so greatly was half-demon or half-dwarf or half-giantess, as long as she let me care for her. I didn't even want to think about anything beyond the time we had now. It all seemed so irrelevant. Tomorrow some new mission would take her away and my heart would seize up in my chest every time a new wound appeared. Tomorrow could be the death of us both. But for tonight that didn't matter.

Until the morning broke I would marvel at the beauty I held in my arms, and thank the Gods that they saw fit to give me this one last taste of joy.


	25. Chapter 25

A.N. This is a weird chapter, and as I'm sure you can figure out it's sort of a filler. I've got the MotB part of the story pretty much planned out now and I'm looking forward to getting this part over and done with so I can start something relatively new! Thank you all so, so much for putting up with my non-existent updates. I promise I'll be good :)

midasthedonkey - thanks for such an in-depth review! This has been written in chunks over the course of almost three years now, so the style and such has shifted a fair bit, but I'm planning on doing a re-write of the first few chapters after this chunk of the story is finished. Evelyn is a personal favourite character of mine, precisely beacuse she's about as realistic as you can be in a world like FR. It's difficult to do in first-person POV, but I like to think I made her likeable, despite her being one of the most aggravating, stubborn, naive, oblivious and sometimes just plain stupid characters I've ever had the pleasure to write. Rest assured, though it's fairly obvious what will happen in the next few chapters, I'm trying to make MotB a little more interesting. The goal of this story has always been to inject realism into the game while still keeping it a fantasy, and I don't think _any_ hot-blooded character would take what happens in MotB lying down. None of this 'sorry, he's dead, now shack up with this Hagspawn' nonsense for _my_ stubborn little demonspawn...

**Chapter 25**

"So what do you think, anyway? I'm probably just being stupid, right?" I mused, kneeling by a chest and digging deep into its contents.

"…"

"Yeah, you're right, Connie. I guess it's never been my strong point."

"…"

"I mean you understand, don't you?" Triumphantly I yanked out a scrap of material, which was immediately replaced when I realised it wasn't what I was looking for at all. "It's not easy trying to figure it all out when there's so much more to think about at the same time. Maybe if it was just the two of us, and I didn't have to lead an army to war any time soon, _maybe_ I could figure it out then. But as it stands it's just...I don't even know what it is, that's why it's not easy."

"..."

"Do you ever talk? It's because I'm not Grobnar, isn't it?"

"..."

"You won't tell Casavir, will you?"

"..."

"Yeah, you probably can't." It was then that it dawned on me exactly what I was doing, and how absurd it was. "I should shut up and stop thinking about it. That always makes things easier," I muttered, "And maybe while I'm at it I'll stop talking to insentient objects. Even one as lovely as yourself."

I gave the Construct a pat on the shoulder plate as I wandered over to the other side of the room, determined to find _just_ the right bits of scrap to fix up my armour. The smithy had banged most of the dents out of it but didn't have time to make repairs to its individual parts. With a sigh, I squatted next to another chest and heaved it open, forcing myself to focus on cataloguing each distinct part I came across so I didn't have to think about how I'd actually told Nevalle I thought we were ready for battle, and how now there was nothing left to do but wait and stew in my own fear. Mustn't think about that. No way.

The slap of leather shoes on stone steps alerted me to the young Greycloak messenger way before his call of my name did. They never had good news. Squaring my jaw and forcing the fear bubbling up my throat back into my belly, I stood up and turned to face him.

"M'lady, you're needed upstairs. The enemy is on the horizon."

"..._what_?"

"We think it may be a preliminary invasion force. Sir Nevalle said to fetch you immediately."

My heart was suddenly alive and pummelling against my chest, threatening to burst through my ribcage as I ascended the stairs from the Keep's basement, my legs unsteady and unwilling to carry me to my death. Not yet. Not now. I wasn't ready. I couldn't face it. I didn't want to die...

I felt my hands shaking and gripped the handle of my sword as hard as I could to stop it from showing as I approached the war room. I schooled my face to provide my best impression of someone who was completely in control and not at all pondering the best route of escape. Most of my companions were already there by the time I arrived, and they all looked a lot more relaxed than I did about the whole thing.

"What's going on?" I asked, surprised to hear that the lump bobbing up and down in my throat only made my voice quiver a little.

"We've spotted a small force of Garius' men on our borders. We think they may attack, perhaps to test our strength, perhaps to serve as a diversion. Whatever their purpose, I agree with Kana's suggestion that you take two or three of your men along with a handful of Greycloaks to investigate and deal with the forces. That way the Keep remains manned, and we can give the enemy a show of strength."

"So...you do not think this is..._it_, then?"

"Casavir informs me that the bulk of Garius' forces are simple shadows that can likely exist only in the darkness," Kana chimed in, looking up from where several maps were spread beneath her palms, "It is unlikely he would choose to attack in the daylight."

"We've decided the best course of action is to take them on as soon as we can. Strike at them before they can strike at us with all their power," Nevalle said, looking directly at me in a way that made me feel I should be standing to attention.

"As I'm sure you are aware we have called for help from our allies in Waterdeep and the north, but we know not whether they will arrive in time," came a deep, commanding voice I recognised at once as Nasher. I hadn't even noticed him earlier, probably because he'd been sitting down for once. His leg was clearly still troubling him, even with all the healing magic we'd thrown at it, and he regarded me with lowered brows and a stern expression.

"But...there is a chance they will be here...right?"

"There is a greater chance the King of Shadows will tear this place apart _before_ they arrive. Whatever plans we make must assume we are on our own," Nevalle added.

"He is right. We gave this Keep to you, and it is your responsibility to defend it. If there is anyone who _can_ do it, I think it is you. Neverwinter depends on your defence of this place," said Nasher without a hint of irony. My fists clenched at my sides. They made me a captain, then a knight, then the proprietor of this damn place, all because it suited them. I had no illusions that the second my role in this tale ended all of those things would be whisked away as if I'd never earned them. To him, to all of them, I was just a face, someone they could manipulate as it suited them. The moment I started to disagree with what they said they'd threatened to give my position to someone else, probably kick me out of Neverwinter, but when there was a pretty high chance I'd die fighting for them they were more than happy to load me up with responsibilities.

"I'll do what I can," I managed, looking slightly to the left of Nasher's head to maintain the aura of calm I was forcing upon myself. I was already terrified, and the lot of them weren't making it any better. The least they could do was _pretend_ that I wouldn't be standing alone with my army against an endless wave of shadows and skeletons.

There was a general murmur of agreement around the room, as if something significant was taking place. Qara looked bored, as usual. I didn't know why she kept showing up. It was more trouble than it was worth at times. Next to her, Neeshka was biting her lip and clutching the hilt of one dagger, her wrinkled forehead making her look exactly as worried as I felt. Khelgar in contrast was the picture of contentment, studying the maps on the table which was barely at eye level with the air of one who would at least pretend to know it all, even if he didn't. Sand's eyes were focused discreetly on Qara, making me think he was more worried about her fighting than the battle itself. He caught me looking at him and regained his composure instantly, nodding almost imperceptibly in my direction, hopefully as a gesture of faith. Bishop lurked behind him, glaring at Nevalle from under lowered brows as if he was the source of all our troubles. Thinking about it, that wasn't such a strange thought. Had I never met him, I doubted I'd be a Captain at all, let alone a Knight. If I died in service to Neverwinter and couldn't find my way to Sune's realm, Nevalle's dreams would be the first I'd haunt so I could shake my fist accusingly. Or however that worked.

Ammon was staring right at me. Or, rather, my neck. He must have known I was wearing the necklace he'd given me. It was probably due to its influence that I could concentrate on what was happening at all. Since I'd put it on, pushing all thoughts of our immanent destruction out of my mind had suddenly become a lot easier. Well, that and something else. My eyes settled finally on Casavir, and the bubbling pool of nervousness in my stomach settled for one brief moment. I didn't know quite how I felt about him, just that I definitely felt _something._ It was _this_ rather fragmented thought that I'd tried to get across to the Construct earlier, with little success. It wasn't that I'd expected any response or comprehension on his party, but trying to articulate exactly what happened to my heart and my head every time I woke up next to him and felt that now-familiar rush of happiness and peace and...and I didn't even know what else... trying to put it into words confirmed just how confused I was about the whole thing. Which shouldn't have been possible for something that felt so easy, so simple, so natural. We were nearing the end, in any case. And then... then when this was all over I'd have time to stop and think and decide exactly what it was I wanted to do with the rest of my life, and exactly what role I wanted my tall, dark and handsome paladin to have in it. I suspected I already knew the answer, but if the Construct's faithful encouragement hadn't coaxed it out of me I doubted anything else would.

"We're ready when you are," Kana hinted, nodding towards the ledgers and reports scattered around the table. It was then I realised that something had been said, and I was supposed to respond.

"...hmm?" I enquired obediently. Kana picked up a report near her, the ink barely dry, and what followed was an unnecessarily long, _detailed_ account of the findings of our scouts from the past few days. What it amounted to was the fact that the enemy had been sighted around the bridges to the south of the Keep, and they were advancing.

"The bridges themselves have been captured, and the enemy defends them well. It may be an attempt to lure you out before attacking, but we have to take that chance," Kana finished, leaning over the map to mark out the enemy's position according to the scout's reports.

Bishop broke his silence. "Can't let 'em think we're powerless, huh. If they have the advantage we have to take it back. I'm game." His eyes caught mine and held my gaze with a challenge. And now he'd think I'd take him with me because it was his idea, not because he was simply the best archer we had. I hated the way he thought.

"Kana's right," Casavir said immediately, "It may be a distraction while they gather their forces. If you must go then take no more with you than necessary. We may need to cover your retreat." My mind drifted back to the conversation we'd had that morning, where we lay warm in his bed before the obligations of the day stole me from his arms. He'd talked of how his training hung over his every thought, even though I came in as a close second. How hard it was to let me go without healing while he focused on someone else who needed it more. Sometimes even the ranger. He wasn't looking into my eyes even now, and I knew it was because strategy was more important than what he'd wryly called his 'senseless' impulse to keep me safe despite the fact I was more than capable of defending myself. Looking at Casavir just made me annoyed at everyone else in the room. I hadn't wanted to get out of bed this morning, and thanks to the rest of them, here I was, in full Knight-Captain regalia, having to talk to the man I'd kissed goodbye this morning like he was some nameless underling.

'_Soon. Soon it will be over. Then...we'll have time...'_

"We _cannot_ let them keep the bridges," Ammon barked, interrupting my daydream, "They will have the advantage for too long if we tarry further. We must take our ground back and destroy both the enemy and the bridges themselves. Let them swim if they wish to attack us again."

"Fighting them back I can understand," I started, drawing on the power of my sparkly new necklace to force myself to concentrate on the matter at hand, "but what use will destroying the bridges be? It will read as an act of desperation rather than heroics, and if I remember correctly shadows, able to _fly_ as they are, won't be bothered by a little water between us and them."

"The scouts saw more than shadows, Captain," Casavir started again. I hated it when he called me Captain. At least we'd progressed beyond the 'my lady's in private. "The army the King of Shadows brings includes vampires, who would have difficulties anyway, and skeletons. The smaller ones will have the current to contend with and will likely be washed away. If we can reduce the bulk of his army in any way it will help with morale, even if all we do is slow them down. Every hour is precious at this point." His eyes met mine, and I wondered if he was truly talking about time to strategise.

"Speaking of morale, any victory at this point can't hurt," Kana started, "A show of strength from their leader will inspire the men before the battle itself."

"And...when do you think that will be? How much time can this get us?"

"A day or two at best. We should be prepared to face them at any moment, Knight-Captain," she replied, her face grave.

"Right...then we best waste no more time in giving them a disadvantage. What's the plan?"

"Take only a small number with you. As few as you think you can manage. A handful of greycloaks should help you as well. I can brief them as you get yourself ready. Archers or fighters?"

I considered my options briefly. "Fighters," I concluded, thinking through the list of my companions and picking out the ones I'd need. "Bishop and Neeshka, I need you two to watch my back and pick off the ones I don't." Neeshka smiled tensely and shrugged, obviously wanting this to be over with as much as I did. Bishop just smirked at me. "With so few of us I can't risk taking you along, Zhjaeve, so Casavir, you're in too." He nodded neutrally, while Bishop rolled his eyes in an automatic reaction I'd come to expect. "And Ammon, if there's a Shadow Reaver I'll need you to take care of it for me."

"There is still the question of the bridges themselves. My magic will not break them," Ammon said in that gravelly tone of his.

"Hmph. If you had the foresight to ask me for assistance I doubt they'd still be standing," Qara offered, inspecting her nails.

"Stone bridges fear little from fire, girl," Sand quipped, his lips curling in distaste, "calm yourself before you try to burn the stone Keep down as well..."

"Why don't you come along too, wizard?" Qara shot back, her voice rising, "I'll give you a lesson in what burns and what doesn't."

"Shut up," I snapped, "I'll invite you along if I plan on getting cremated, not before. Now does anyone else have a bright idea about how to deal with the bridges?"

"Well, we could always use blast globes." So eloquent was the suggestion that it took me a few seconds to register that the owner of the voice was none other than Grobnar. I hadn't even noticed him hovering around the table. "Yes, such a spectacle they are! Explosions of yellows and oranges and reds, though often I find that the red is due more to the _victims_ and less to the globes themselves. Reminds me of a song, it does. Why..."

Evidently, some sort of conclusion was eventually reached, as Grobnar stopped talking and sidled past me towards the basements of the Keep. He was useful, I'd give him that, even if I couldn't concentrate for more than a moment or two on the bizarre series of thoughts he frequently shared with the rest of us.

"Another thing, Captain," Kana piped up as we began to file out of the room, "your father, Daeghun, is here. He said he'd meet you down by the outskirts of our borders. He's been scouting the area, and as I'm sure you know his skills are second to none." Bishop snorted to my side and I restrained myself from shooting him a hateful look. "He's been such a help as an informant. If we didn't have him on board I'm not sure we'd still have so many men left alive." I thanked her and left, wondering why I hadn't heard of his helping us before. There was so much more to the man I called my father that I wish I knew, but I wasn't sure it'd make me any happier. For so long I'd thought we were too bizarre to be a real family in any sense of the word. He was always so cold and distant, and the gods knew how I always reacted to that. I'd always thought that one day his exterior would crack and I'd see the loving man who'd managed to marry a woman as warm as I'd heard Shayla was. But now...I was just content for him to be here. I was starting to learn that his actions spoke louder than his words, and for a man who everyone thought couldn't possibly love me, he'd sure given up a lot to make sure I was happy.

The talk we'd had wasn't enough. It had unearthed a lot of mysteries, but somehow I'd thought the earth would move and we'd embrace and he'd be my _father_, not just the man who'd put up with me for years. But nothing of the sort happened. And a cool, steady realisation had dawned on me, like finally bringing attention to a noise you'd been hearing all along. It would never happen. We would never be closer. And, more importantly, that was ok. I could live with it. I could live with no one but the two of us understanding how we managed to still love each other after all this time, all the hurt we'd caused one another. And so I stopped trying to change him, to force something out of him he'd never give, and I just accepted him, like he'd done with me. At least if I died, I could die knowing I'd made peace.

-+-+-+-

It went better than I had expected. No, that was an understatement. I thought we'd crash and burn. Instead, we won. We fought and killed every last one of them, and only one of the fighters was hurt. A preview of the impossible odds we were up against had threatened us, and we had fought it off like they were a group of bandits. We could win this.

You could have bounced things off my ego.

The final blast globe shattered the stone foundations of the last bridge leading up to the Keep. Mission officially accomplished. The twelve of us watched it burn from halfway up the hillside with a sense of ceremony, until, little by little, the men and women surrounding me began to filter off towards the Keep. Daeghun placed a hand on my shoulder and gave me the closest thing to a smile I'd seen on him before following the greycloaks back. It had been good to fight alongside him again. It felt strange to admit it, but I'd missed him these past few months. Almost a year, now. Maybe more? It was hard to keep track. Either way, it made me smile to know that at least now, at the end, he was proud of me. It made all the times I'd had to defend him to other people seem worth it.

I took a deep breath and released it slowly. There was a storm coming, if the heavy air and greying sky was any indication. With any luck it would come and go before the battle did. I took a last look at the sweeping scenery before turning back to the Keep. There, leaning against one of the huge, stone posts that flanked the path up the hill, was Bishop, looking like he had all the reason in the world to be there. He was the only one left. Casavir had headed back straight away with the injured soldiers, and, unsurprisingly, the others hadn't felt like tarrying too long. As I headed past him he effortlessly moved to my side and kept my pace.

"You did good today," he said neutrally. I racked my brains to think why he would be here and came up blank.

"We all did," I replied, "you were no exception. I imagine some of the others will want to celebrate the victory, however premature it is."

"Wouldn't surprise me if they were splitting the kegs already. It's the night before the biggest battle any of them have faced. Anything could happen." I felt his eyes on me and immediately turned to meet his gaze. As usual, he gave nothing away. It was getting to be frustrating that I couldn't read him, no matter how hard I tried. It was only then I realised we'd stopped walking. I started for the keep again, using every ounce of willpower I had to stop my cheeks from burning. I hated how he could still make me feel embarrassed for even looking at him.

"The others can celebrate all night if they want, long as they're fit for fighting on the morrow," I said quickly, lengthening my stride to be within the Keep's walls once more. At least there I had some kind of power. "Warm food and blankets, that's all I'm after." I _heard_ him smirk behind me as the Keep's gates passed us overhead.

"Just ask, princess."

Had I even heard that? I turned to question him, but he was gone. With an annoyingly large amount of effort, I pushed him and his words from my mind. I couldn't afford to be distracted. Not here, not now. I made my way through the small crowds that had assembled, accepting their praise with smiles and nods and reminding them to rest up before tomorrow. We didn't know when the enemy would be here at last. And whenever it was, I wanted to be well-rested.

"Evie?" I'd have recognised his voice anywhere, and the sound of my name on his lips made me grin as I turned mid-stride to face him, an eyebrow raised in question.

"Everyone alive and well?" I asked, noting the direction he'd come from. Casavir nodded, looking back towards the infirmary.

"There's one or two who still need patching up, so I can't get away just yet. It's just... I need to talk to you," he said, his voice low and inviting as always.

"Well there's no one else here..." I started, taking a step towards him.

"Not here. Somewhere private. It's...important. I'm thinking about tomorrow, and...I know, I'm sorry for reminding you, I'm just...worried I won't get another chance." He looked serious, which immediately had me worried. More to the point, I didn't want to keep him waiting. I shrugged.

"The upper battlements, then? No one ever goes there, and I want to be the first to know if we're being attacked."

"Okay, but I..." I put my finger to his lips quickly.

"...need to go, I know. I'm going to see Kendra before. I'll find you up there?" He gave me a small, private smile, covering my fingers with his hand, kissing them, and letting me go before he disappeared around the corner.

A few minutes later once my heart rate had cooled, I creaked open the door to Kendra's room and immediately a wave of sympathy crashed over me. She sat on her bed, back against the wall, eyes closed, her hands cradling her belly. She was huge, and by the looks of it she wasn't exactly comfortable. Slowly, her eyes opened and she saw me. With a tired smile she waved me over and sighed deeply.

"It's over a week late," she said a little breathlessly, "I don't know when it's getting here, but I hope to the Gods it's soon. I'm not sure how much longer I can take this. I can barely even walk." I took one of her hands between mine as I sat next to her.

"Bertha say anything?"

"Not much I didn't already know. I was scared before, scared as hell. But now...I just want to get the gods-damned ordeal over with, y'know?"

I smiled and shook my head as I looked into the same, blue-grey eyes I'd giggled and gossiped with into the early hours of the morning. "I can't believe you're having a baby. I've known you all my life, and now here you are, about to give birth to a child. It's…surreal."

She rolled her eyes. "You're telling me. I don't think it's hit me yet. Maybe when I'm actually holding the damn thing it'll feel real. But for now…I don't know, just seems like I'm watching it happen to somebody else."

"I know what you mean. It still hasn't sunk in that I'm in charge of this whole thing. Or that the army waiting outside is mine…" Her face fell.

"I didn't even think of that. It's hard to think of much else when y'can't see your feet. I mean it's weird to know I'm gonna be a momma an' all, but I'm just doing what _millions_ of women before me have done. Might be messy and hurt a whole lot, but it ain't exactly complicated if it goes right. You're leading a whole army. _And_ you're younger than me. Makes me feel downright inadequate," she grinned, and I grinned right back, happy to see some signs of the old Kendra coming back.

"That don't make you and your baby any less important. Not to me, anyhow. I'll do what I do best, and...you do what you do best." She looked at me suspiciously, not really understanding my words.

"Get…pregnant?" she tried.

"Survive," I corrected with a smile. She shrugged.

"I'll be fine. At least, if you manage to stop them from tearing this place down while I'm still in it, I'll be fine."

"Don't remind me. It's bad enough that I have to hear about it from my companions, let alone you," I said with a smirk.

"They can't be _all_ doom and gloom, Evie. That demon girl's nice. And that woman that looks all pickled, the one with the veil, she's always helpin' people out. And…oh, I can't remember his name. Tall, dark, _ridiculously_ good looking…"

"Casavir?" I prompted.

"Mm, that's the one," she purred, "I was, y'know, _waddling_ along, and the steps in this place are so damn steep at times, so I was having a little trouble. Lucky he was there to give me a hand. I swear, I knew there'd be a good number of soldiers around, but I didn't realise they'd be so...well..." the look on her face told me exactly what she meant, and I couldn't suppress the downright _smugness_ that welled up inside me. She must have noticed, for her jaw dropped open and the corners of her mouth curved up into a triumphant smile. "You! You're...sleeping with him, aren't you?" Now it was my turn to be shocked. How did she...I mean...I hadn't even said anything but...somehow..._what_?

She always did know what I was thinking. Perhaps it was because we were so similar in matters such as this. It was like we were back in the Mere again swapping stories and gossiping about anything even remotely interesting. She'd always had such interest in my conquests, my flirtations, and seeing as she was my self-proclaimed 'best friend' had always demanded to hear the newest twists and turns the second they happened. Many things had changed since we'd parted, but some things, it seemed, always stayed the same.

"I'm not sleeping with him," I said matter-of-factly. The fact that I spent most of my nights in the same _bed_ as him didn't stop what I'd said from being mostly true...

"But you _are_ doing something..." she narrowed her eyes, as if intense scrutiny would somehow reveal an answer. "Have you kissed him?"

"Well..."

"Don't answer, I already know," she said instantly, her eyes never leaving mine. I imagined this must be what interrogation by an illithid must be like. "Are you...like...his _lady_?" The way she said the word, combined with the devious twisting of her eyebrows, left no doubt about what kind of nefarious and debauched kind of lady she thought I'd make.

"I don't know! It's hard to say. We haven't really talked about it..."

"'We', huh?" Her eyebrows shot up.

"Don't be like that. I mean..."

"Cm'on, you have to admit this is weird..."

"What is?"

"Oh for crying out...you're _blushin'_, Evie! More to the point you've _always_ been able to say _exactly_ what's goin' on with _any_ man in your life without a _second's_ hesitation. It's always been a source of both jealousy an' amazement, not just from me, and you know it. An' now I leave you for a couple'a months an' you're stammerin' an' blushin' over some guy from _Neverwinter_! It's more'n a little strange, tell you that much."

"He's different," I said firmly, willing the heat that rushed to my face to disappear. "He actually cares about me, for one thing. And he's seen me looking all kinds'a awful and didn't so much as bat an eyelid. More to the point, _I_ actually care about him."

"Oh _Gods_," she said with a smile so big it threatened to cut her face in two, "you _love_ him, don't you?" I wasn't expecting _that_.

"What? No. I mean. Maybe..." I saw the triumphant gleem in her eyes and threw my hands up in frustration. "I don't know! And that's the truth. I really don't. An' I'm scared, because there might not be another chance to do anything about it, 'cause far as I know we'll all be dead tomorrow!" It all came out in one long breath and for a moment we just stared at each other. Then her hands enfolded mine and she gave me a strange, half-smile.

"Then what you still doing talkin' to me?" I sighed, the reality of the situation hitting me in its entirety. I wouldn't sort out my love life _or_ save us all from imminent death if I just stuck around here all night, no matter how comforting and familiar it was to talk to her.

"I should get some sleep, huh?"

"Something like that. I'll pray for you. An' me, of course." I smiled, recalling that Kendra had always found more to Lathander's teachings than I had. She was hardly a paragon of his ideals but she'd always been full of vitality, and nearly as athletic as I was. She'd told me when she got here that she'd been biting out prayers the whole time she was half-walking half-running to Highcliff, alone and heavy with child, begging him to let it be alright, if not for her sake then for the sake of the life within her. Maybe it had worked. I liked to think prayers made a difference when us normal folk sent them up to the heavens. I'd never channelled a God's power to heal a wound or strike down an enemy like Casavir, but maybe if I asked them kindly enough they'd either take me or this whole damn thing far, far away.

"I think I could use a little divine intervention."

"If that don't work, gettin' some sleep will. The sun's goin' down, and if they're gonna come soon like everybody says there's no use tirin' yourself out waitin'." I was about to tell her to take her own advice, but thought better of it. She'd always been better at looking after herself than me. I kissed her brow and bid her goodnight. I'd be no good to anyone if I sat with her all evening worrying myself sick.

Besides. I had a paladin to see to.


	26. Chapter 26

**A.N.** I've written and re-written this chapter what feels like a hundred times. It was the first part of this story I wrote, but then I decided I wanted it to be more than a one-shot and wrote 25 more chapters to lead up to it. So things have changed, and this chapter has been redone more times than I care to remember. About half of it has been cut out, but don't worry, it's nothing important ;). This is the first story I've written where my poor, tortured characters have gotten anywhere near this stage, so go easy on me! The next few chapters will take a little longer to get up – all the usual excuses like exams, as well as the fact that I don't have a game saved around then because, surprise surprise, my computer died. I'll shut up, now, and let you nice strangers read the fluffiest, steamiest piece of fiction I've ever written. Enjoy!

**Chapter 25**

The upper battlements were more for show than anything else. They were carved into the innermost section of the keep, up on the highest crest of the building, offering an incomparable view of the countryside all around. If the enemy ever got close enough for a soldier standing where I was to make a difference then the Keep would already have been lost. The slim corridor of stone stretched around the uppermost rooms, including hers, like a makeshift balcony, though the only way to get there was by the main staircase. I stood, leaning over on one of the long merlons that rose to just above my waist, and stared down at the main gate. It was being secured even now, and the patrols that paced along the main walls had increased in number. The activity below, the preparations, it was like the keep was drawing in a long, deep breath in anticipation. The thick clouds swirling in the distant, dark horizon only stirred up the tension that lay deep in the air, already electric with the storm brewing. The main buildings were hidden from me, which was something of a relief, as I was distracted enough already without worrying about being watched. Besides, no one came up here.

As if in response, I heard a grunt to my right. I turned to see a window being pushed open, and a long pair of legs covered in tight brown cloth swing outside. The rest of her followed a moment later, her hands pushing off from the windowsill and her bare feet landing on the battlements with a slap. She caught sight of me and made her way over with a pointed, private smile on her face that made my heart momentarily forget its place in my chest. With a grin she swung her arms around my neck and leant up on the tips of her toes to plant a long, languid kiss on my lips. I looked down at her as the slight breeze whipped a lock of her cinnamon hair across her face and she wrinkled her nose. The night air coloured her cheeks a rosy pink, even as the cross of her still-healing scars remained a dark maroon.

It hit me with full force. The now-familiar rush I'd come to expect from watching her, holding her, breathing in that intoxicating scent I still couldn't place. To my eyes, she was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. And she was here, in my arms, smiling up at me. I'd have told myself I was dreaming if her body didn't feel so undeniably _real_ pressed against mine.

"Well?" She asked, her icy blue eyes teasing, matching the impish smile on her face. I knew exactly what I wanted to say to her. The words were right in front of me, but they caught in my throat. In this, as always, my heart and my head pulled against each other.

"I'm lost for words," I said finally, smiling right back at her. Her face broke into a grin and in one smooth motion she stepped back from me and hoisted herself onto the merlon, her bare feet dangling down somewhere around my knees.

"That's ok. We have time. All night, I hope. Maybe those gods-damned shadows will be too shook up from what we did to 'em earlier to notice the sunrise. Or maybe they'll be too scared of the pair of us to come at all." She leaned back onto her hands and jerked her head towards the horizon. "At least when they get here we'll know about it. I've been out here almost every evening, you know. Sometimes even in the mornings. Can't see what's going on down in the courtyard too well, and can't even _see_ the south horizon sometimes. There's nowhere to look, really, but up there." She raised her eyes to the heavens and I looked up to the sea of glittering stars that painted the heavens. "The Mere was always so cloudy, but up here the sky's clear as anything..." she paused, biting her lip, "I guess I should be thankful to see them for one last time. They're so beautiful up here."

My brow wrinkled in confusion. "Why shouldn't you see them again?"

"Because..." her voice was low and shook slightly, and all at once it became clear what the sad cast to her eyes meant. I could _feel_ the tension bubbling up inside her, and had no doubts as to what it was about. "I don't know how much longer I'll be walking and talking, that's why. There's a war coming tomorrow, Casavir. It'll hit this place like a damn tidal wave and hells know I can't stand up to that. Even if we all make it through alive, we gotta face _him_ afterwards. Can't just let him slink away and recover. That's how it always happens, I'm told. And I don't know how prepared I am for that either. I don't even know why it has to be me..." she bit her lip again, a nervous habit I'd long become used to, "I'm sorry for bringing it up," she sighed, "It's just...been preying on my mind, you know?" I stepped between her legs, brushing back the hair that fell over her face. Her bright, icy blue eyes flicked up to mine, hopeful, asking me to tell her fanciful lies about the future that didn't involve our deaths.

"I'd tell you not to think about it," I started, "but even _I'm_ finding it hard with the way everyone's running about the place. There's death in the air." I didn't know why I'd said that, and looked away from her quickly. I promised myself I wouldn't bring up the way every one of the senses I'd finely honed during my years of training as a paladin were screaming at me to leave this gods-forsaken Keep before it became a mass graveyard on the morrow. I could feel them. Their presence had grown steadily over the past few months. It was nothing I couldn't block out before, but, like a sound slowly, imperceptibly rising in volume, it was becoming difficult to ignore. The undead were coming, and their army was many times the size of ours. If she hadn't been leading the only opposing force, I don't know what I'd have done.

No, that was a lie. I knew what I'd do. I'd charge head-first into battle, still churning with the rage I'd fought with back in the Well. I didn't even want to think about where I'd be if I hadn't met her.

"Don't get all grim on me, paladin," she quipped with a teasing note in her voice. I looked back down to her and took in the way the brave smile she gave me didn't quite reach her eyes, and the way her hands gripped at the stone beneath her. "I was counting on you to be the calm, sane one, like you always are. Without you to slap some heroics into me I'll just be left to my own pessimism, _entirely_ founded though it is."

"So if I told you it'll all be ok, that we'll both live through it all, that you had nothing to be scared of...you'd believe me?" She bit her lip. The sight of the soft strip of pink flesh caught between her sharp, white teeth made me entirely forget what I'd asked her.

"If you said it...I might. But paladins don't lie, do they?" Her expression was so strange. A smile, but with fear shaping her eyes, and her lips pulled tight across her mouth as if she was about to cry. It had been selfish of me to try and talk to her tonight. The air was too thick with dread and apprehension for us to think of anything but what tomorrow meant.

"For you, I might," I answered finally. She shivered suddenly. Something told me it wasn't the cold.

"So it'd be a lie, then?" I licked my lips as I thought of how to respond. "Don't answer," she said quickly, "I already know we're dead men walking. It's ok. It's just...nice to pretend that...that..." she looked away from me, up in to the stars, and her mouth clamped suddenly, her lips wringing together, "...That star's gone," she murmured, "It's not just a fluke. It's still gone." She muttered a name in Elvish that I didn't understand.

"Evelyn..."

"Back in the swamp it was the brightest star you could see. And I asked my father what it meant. And he told me...if it ever darkened it meant something terrible was going to happen. Not just to us, but to the whole world. And..." her head fell forward so her chin was resting on her chest as her voice quietened. "And I looked for it a while ago and couldn't find it. And it's not there now. Is that because everything's about to go to hell, or because there's too many other stars for me to see it right?" Her head snapped back up to me suddenly, her eyes bright and wide with a strange mix of fear and sadness as the words tumbled out of her mouth. "Why am I even looking for stuff like this? The star isn't the only thing. It's like the whole damn _universe_ is making sure that when I die, it won't be a shock. I mean...even..." she made a small, frustrated noise at the back of her throat. "I know it's bad luck to look at your own palm, probably just because you'll take everything the wrong way, but I did it anyway. I looked. And I was never scared before, because if the lines on my hand count for anything then I'm in for a long, happy life. But today I got hurt. It was nothing, just a scratch, but..." her voice trailed off and she bit her lip. She reached out towards me with her right hand, displaying it flat for me to see. "What does it mean?"

The scratch had cut the lines of her hand in two. The one she'd indicated now finished after barely an inch, the other half stretching away towards her wrist. Without hesitation I took her hand in mine and kissed her palm. The healing magic came with barely a thought, and the tiny wound knitted itself together like it had never existed. Her lifeline was whole again.

"It means nothing," I said firmly. I could see in her eyes how badly she wanted to believe me. "And you're not going to die tomorrow. Not while I breathe." She leant forward, resting her head against my shoulder and sighed shakily.

"You said that before. Ages ago. Remember?" I did, and inwardly cringed at how I'd been with her back then. "And I'll tell you now the same damn thing I told you then. You're too good to die for someone like me." I opened my mouth to respond, but she beat me to it. "And don't tell me I'm wrong, because I know I'm right. You shouldn't have to give up your life for me, for Tyr, for anyone..."

"Tyr?" I interrupted her in astonishment, and she shifted so her eyes were staring up into mine, icy blue like the brightest topaz. "Is that what you think this is about? That I'm only here with you because, out of some misguided sense of duty, I can't bring myself to leave?" She threaded her fingers through mine.

"That's not what I said," her voice was so tender that I cursed myself for being unnecessarily defensive, "It's just hard to forget...how you were. When we found you in the Well. You had this crazy deathwish and...and maybe I should have told you how worried about you I was. I barely even knew you, but I knew enough to know you were _good_ and _kind_, and... I don't know, maybe I thought...I could...help you."

"Is that why you asked me to stay?" Her face suddenly took on a teasing, impish quality, and her hands slid up my chest, her earlier melancholy all but forgotten.

"Well. That and...you know, I'm only a woman..." she hooked her leg behind my knee and pulled me towards her. I didn't know if she was avoiding the topic or just moving on. She shifted her hips closer to mine, her fingers weaving together behind my neck, and suddenly I didn't care. She drew my face to hers and I kissed her, my fingers diving into her hair, pressing into her scalp, that unmistakeable scent of hers invading my mind and clouding all rational thought. "So what did you bring me here for, huh?" she whispered against my lips, her voice low and husky. My jaw trembled as I tried to speak. She kissed me again, nipping at my bottom lip with her teeth. Our surroundings were forgotten. The day and its troubles, tomorrow and our deaths, none of them mattered. The words I'd wanted to say to her felt childish and hollow, somehow. Like saying them would shatter the illusion and make the whole thing real again.

"S'not important..." I muttered through a kiss. I felt her pursed lips spread into a grin.

"Liar," she said with a throaty chuckle, nudging my nose with hers as she looked up to me, her eyes hooded and swirling like a blizzard. "C'mon, out with it." My instincts warred with one another. Part of me insisted I should let it lie, and just enjoy what we had before it was all too abruptly taken away. The other half screamed that I'd be a fool to let tomorrow come without telling her. To the hells if she pushed me away. At least I'd know.

"I..." I couldn't do it, came the sickening realisation. I could lead scores of warriors into battle, I could turn back hordes of undead, I could kill a bandit with barely a thought. But when it came to her I was tongue-tied and foolish. I'd been too much of a coward to do anything about the mindless infatuation I'd nurtured for months until she'd literally climbed into my bed. And now that I had the thing I wanted most in the world before me, her wide, bright eyes gazing up at me, I found all the words I thought to say to her crumble to dust before my eyes. They served no purpose but to dress up the raw, desperate surge of emotion I felt when I looked at her as if it was something that could ever be described in mere words. I wished I could simply open my mouth and have the words come tumbling out, so she'd know how desperately afraid I was that tomorrow this would be gone for good. Or worse – I'd survive and she wouldn't. I wished I could tell her how my heart seized up in my chest every time she flashed me that grin of hers, how the freckles dancing across her face as she wrinkled her nose made my breath catch in my throat. How my life had changed for the better in every possible way since I'd met her. How I'd almost lost myself before her bright eyes and easy laughter had pulled me back from the brink. How, in her, I saw the good in the world I'd long since given up on, how she was so, perfectly, heart-wrenchingly beautiful that it seemed to me impossible that I could be holding her in my arms even now. How— "I love you."

It didn't hit me that I'd actually spoken until her head snapped up, the playful expression flooding from her face as her mouth dropped open into a perfect 'o' of surprise. She looked at me like I'd just shoved her over the edge of the wall, her expression torn and her lips quivering. Her hands had been resting carelessly on my shoulders, and were now grasping my shirt like it was the only thing keeping her upright.

The first drop of rain hit her forehead, slid down around her brow bone, and vanished on her cheek like a tear.

"What...what did you say?" she whispered sharply, her voice trembling. I still didn't know if what I'd done had been very good, or very bad. Either way, it was out, for her to do with as she wished. And either way, I couldn't make things worse by repeating myself.

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"I love you, Evelyn." His voice was so soft, so tender, and so _sincere._

Oh gods. Oh gods, he'd said it. Just when I thought I'd get away from this unscathed, he'd come out with the words I'd been pushing to the back of my mind for so long now, and my heart was hammering in my chest. My mouth was parched, and a slow, unfamiliar warmth crept up my body, suffocating any chance of an offhand reply. I couldn't move. I just stared at him, my mouth open and my body shaking. The light mist of rain coupled with the adrenaline pumping through my blood made my skin prickle with gooseflesh. I didn't know what to do. I was torn between either kissing him to silence any further talk, or screaming at him that I loved him back with every dirty, flawed part of me there was. It wasn't a thought I'd entertained until right that second. I hadn't had any need to.

His face fell a little at my reaction. I could hardly blame him. I was acting like he'd just slapped me across the face. I suppose he had, in a way. Whatever I'd expected of him, it hadn't been that. Something about this felt unreal. It was unfamiliar territory, and yes, I admitted, I was scared. I was scared of what this meant, and how it changed everything. How I could no longer pretend that I'd recover from losing him tomorrow. The hours stretching ahead suddenly became so much more important.

There was still a pure, naked longing in his eyes, and a more familiar heat bloomed deep in my abdomen. Praying he'd understand, willing everything I felt into one small gesture, I leant up, grasping his face between my hands, and pressed my lips against his still-open mouth. If I couldn't tell him how I felt, I could at least show him. In that, at least, I knew what I was doing. I parted my lips and my tongue darted into his mouth, coaxing him, encouraging him, telling him everything words were too useless to explain. I'd felt this strange desperation for him once before, but this time I'd probably kill him if he pushed me away.

Somehow, I knew he understood. His hands slicked back my hair, now damp with the spattering of rain, and pulled me closer to him. My hands roamed over the back of his neck, into his hair, tugging and teasing until a low sound of pleasure came from the back of his throat. I needed no further encouragement. I pressed my hips against his, pushing him back so I could slide off the battlements. His lips moved from my mouth to my chin, my jaw, the tip of my elven-pointed ear. All coherent thought fled my mind as I shuddered against him, my back arching towards his body.

"Let's go inside," I whispered throatily, surprising myself at how shaky my voice was.

Those were the last words said that night.

We made it to my window, half-mad with the taste of each other. My lips felt swollen, and I cursed the need for him to pull away as he climbed through into my room. Part of me worried that he'd snap out of this strange, lusty haze the second I let him go. But no. As I clambered through after him his arms were around me in an instant, his mouth descending on mine and teasing a whimper from my throat. I steered him the short distance to the door, never once letting his touch escape me, before my back was flattened against the hard oak. His hands came to rest against the door on each side of my head as his mouth worked its way down my neck. And then, as I fumbled with the lock, it struck me. I was going to do it. I was going to lie with him, and he was practically instigating it. Finally, I was going to get to show him exactly how much he meant to me in the way I knew best, and my breath caught in my throat as all the desire I'd suppressed over the past few months came rushing back to me in one gulp of air.

Oh gods, my legs were trembling. With shaking fingers I tugged up the hemline of his shirt, damp with the rain I'd barely noticed, and he broke away from me to pull it over his head, his eyes positively _smouldering_ with desire as his lips found that spot just above my jugular, his bare skin hot and flushed through the fabric of my top. My breath came in short, ragged gasps as, with combined effort, we undid the buttons of my blouse and I yanked it from my arms. The kisses we shared grew wilder, deeper, and the layers of fabric remaining felt stifling all of a sudden. A shiver rippled up my body as my undershirt fell to the floor and my bare breasts pressed against his skin, my hardened nipples a testament to the warmth pooling at my centre.

The rain started to pound on the stones outside even as we stumbled over to my bed and I pushed him back onto the sheets, my seeking fingers unabashedly roaming over his body, taking in every little detail in case this was the last chance I'd get. He rolled me beneath him and slid his hand down to the waistband at my hips, my head arching back into the pillows even as the final boundaries fell away. Our bodies, slick with sweat, moved in the darkness, his dark eyes never leaving mine even as I raked my fingernails through his hair, down his back, wanting him even closer every second we were joined. Giddy with passion, I dragged my mouth over his lips, his neck, my teeth nipping at his ear, gasps of pleasure echoing through the small room and mingling with the shock of thunder from outside.

I needed him like I'd needed no other, and when release fell upon me at last and I cried out in his arms, I gave myself up to him entirely, offering whatever I was, whatever I had, and praying to the gods that it was enough.

I didn't care what came on the morrow. I didn't care if the Keep came crashing down on our heads the second the sun rose above the black horizon. For that night I was alive, I was euphoric, and I was loved. It was all that truly mattered.


	27. Chapter 27

**A.N. **Two in one week! Try not to faint, guys. Ever notice how these updates pick up right around exam time? No reason, I swear...

This was originally two chapters, as was the next chapter, but I'm getting sick of this part of the story and just want to get my heroine into Rashman so I can toy with her some more. This is the penultimate chapter from the OC, written in record time for me! Enjoy...

**Chapter 27**

I awoke with my cheek pressed against something firm, radiating with warmth, and as the rest of my body caught up I realised I was indeed curled in the long, toned arms of my knight, and the clash of thunder that had been my evening until now wasn't just an extremely pleasant dream. The memory of his body moving with me, that unfathomable look in his eyes when I finally managed to open mine long enough to catch his gaze, the way he'd held me afterwards, like he'd never let me go... I'd say it felt like the very first time if that hadn't been an occasion best forgotten to the ages. No, it just felt… different. Perfect. Like everything I'd done in the past had been some kind of prelude that was washed away the instant I stepped into his arms.

But then, he'd been the only one that had said he'd loved me. Or at least the only one I knew that meant it.

It was still very dark, and the rain had stopped. Waking up to silence was a strange thing indeed, but it was nothing compared to the light I felt in my soul. I let the sensation of lying between warm flesh and soft sheets wash over me before I even considered moving. His chest rose and fell softly beneath my head in a soothing lullaby with the rhythmic beating of his heart. One of his hands lay against the small of my back, the other loose somewhere near my neck in the sea of blood-coloured hair that spilled over my shoulders. I couldn't remember ever waking up like this, with so much to be frightened of and every reason to be anxious and upset, yet with a perfect feeling of utter contentment. I wouldn't trade this single moment for the world. Satisfaction still warmed my belly, an echo of all that had happened barely hours ago. But this time, as I carefully lifted myself off of him, disentangling his hands with a thief's dexterity and moving back from where he lay, I didn't feel the familiar rush of disappointment. His peaceful expression darkened to a slight scowl in his sleep as his hand grasped at the warm sheets where I'd just slept, and happiness welled up inside me. He didn't crumble to dust before my eyes, and after having spent the most intimate moments of my life with him, he was still the same radiant, perfect figure from the night before. No, that wasn't right. He wasn't perfect, but then neither was I, so, I thought as I smiled to myself, I could overlook that, just this once.

The time between when Casavir had first kissed me and now was already the longest dalliance of any kind I'd had. I had a taste of him, of what things could be like if we weren't constantly surrounded by tasks and regulations and orders…and I wanted more. I never wanted more. That was why he was so different to all the others. Beside him, they were less than nothing to me. Never before had I loved so unselfishly. Never before had I been so intent on giving another the single greatest night of their life. And from the feel of things, I thought with a smirk, he'd been intent on doing the same.

Was this love? Not the fleeting, illusion of love that men promised as they took barmaids to bed, but real, enduring, _love_, where your every thought was clouded with him, wanting, longing, _needing_ to make every moment you have with him last, because at any second it could all be gone…

The momentum of my thoughts crashed to a halt, and a lump grew in my throat. He could be gone by sunset. So could I. This could all have been a taste of ecstasy before it was ripped away, a wonderful illusion of happiness that was never fated to last. I looked at him there, sleeping soundly, divinely warm, and tears pricked at my eyes at the thought that it could all end. This night could be just another dream. I wrenched my gaze from the bed and felt around on the cold stone floor for something to hide the fact that I was still flushed and naked. My questing hands found his shirt, and I fondly remembered the way he'd thrown it to the night as my fingers raked over his body like I'd wanted to do for so long. I pulled it over my head and stepped towards where my trousers had been left in a rumpled pile. It was only when I picked them up that I remembered how the buttons fastening them in place had been ripped off in my haste.

_Our_ haste, I corrected myself. For a man who was so in control of everything else, Casavir had wasted no time in tearing off every material barrier between his skin and mine. Once I was in his arms, though, he loved me like a man savouring a last meal, making every moment last, exploring every inch of my skin, as if he'd only have that one opportunity. And then, I remembered he was probably right.

I hugged myself against the sudden chill I felt now that I'd left his arms, and my wobbling legs took me to the window. The storm had passed, and the stone outside was soaked with rainwater. I stared out across the horizon and bit my lip. Soon. Soon they would swamp this place like a plague of locusts, and then I'd know if all the lies I told myself were true or not.

It couldn't have been more than a couple of minutes before I felt his hands sliding around my hips and pulling me back towards him. I gratefully accepted the distraction and crossed my hands over his, leaning my head back into the crook of his neck and breathing a heavy sigh of contentment. His lips grazed the points of my ears, moved down my neck, and I shivered in response.

"It's cold out here," he said finally, his voice low and smooth.

"I didn't want to wake you," I replied, turning so my chest was pressed against his, my cheek against his bare shoulder. I skimmed my arms over the waistline of his cotton trousers and hugged him closer to me. "I didn't want to wake up at all. Not to this morning…" My every anxious thought hung in the air, clear as if I'd shouted them to the world. "It ain't fair."

"What isn't?" he asked softly, his lips against my hair.

"That this might be the last night we have together. And it's taken this long for me to figure out how much I love it here…" my voice hushed to a whisper, "it just ain't far that this could be _it_."

"Why should it be?" I could practically _hear_ his eyebrows knitting together, and I could picture his expression. Defiant, protective...

"Casavir, you _know_ what I'm talking about," I bit out, pressing my nose against the hollow below his collarbone as if I could somehow melt into him and make the rest of this go away, like he'd done earlier, just for a while... "And you _know_ that we haven't got a chance in hell of winning this fight."

"People have made it to hell and back, Evie." My head tilted back and I simply stared at him, my mouth dropping open. "And I promise. It'll be ok. I promise." And here was the side of him only _I_ knew. The side he never let show when the others were around. The half-smile on his face, the slant to his eyes that was hopeful, encouraging, despite the war that raged behind them.

"And if you die?" I asked abruptly, wondering how he was going to get himself out of _this_ one...

"Then you can call my corpse a liar," he smirked with an uncharacteristic lightness. Instantly, my gloom was lifted, and I was suddenly reminded that I was here, a half-naked, grinning woman in the arms of a devastatingly handsome paladin with a trail of muscles on his abdomen that seemed to go on forever…

"You broke my trousers," I scolded, lowering my eyebrows sternly.

"I didn't mean to."

"I thought paladins couldn't lie."

His hands cupped my cheeks as he leant his forehead on mine. "Ah, then it appears you've caught me, my lady," and he silenced my comeback with a smouldering kiss. His fingers trailed up the outside of my thighs to the hemline of his shirt, ridiculously long on me, and moved higher...

"I'm going to need this back, eventually," he murmured, kissing me again. I giggled against his mouth, a strange, bubbly sound borne from the tension knotting together in my guts that was slowly easing as I felt his warmth. It would be ok. It had to be. There was no reason it wouldn't—

The quick, hard rapping on the door made my heart leap into my throat, and I pulled back from him quickly, my eyes flying to the door and my hands clutching at his arms. I tried to breathe deeply, to calm myself somehow, but my lungs seemed to constrict with the sudden, all-encompassing terror. The soldier didn't need to tell me why he was here. Let it never be said that fortune lacked a sense of dramatic. Deep within my soul I just _knew_. This was it...

"Knight-Captain, are you awake?" The soldier sounded breathless, and desperation wove through his voice, muffled from the thick door. "The scouts have returned, m'lady, the enemy is on the move! Their entire army will be here within the hour! Kana's already given the order for the soldiers to prepare for the attack, but we...they need you in the War Room, m'lady." There was a long, painful moment where fear froze my tongue and rooted me in place. And then Casavir pulled me to him, kissed my temple and whispered for me to say something, and I managed to croak out that I was awake, and that I'd be down as soon as I could. The soldier scurried off, and I didn't realise I was crying until his thumbs brushed over my cheeks to wipe the tears from my face.

"It's too soon," I started, my voice shaking, "It's too soon, I can't do it. I can't lose this. I can't lose you..."

"Evelyn, look at me," he said, and as I lifted my red-rimmed eyes to his, I saw they were just as serious as his voice. His hands held my face, and he lowered his head to be level with mine. "You can do this. I know you can. They might have the bigger army, but _we_ are stronger. We have everything to fight for, everything to live for. Nothing about this battle is set in stone."

"But...but what if—"

"If we lose, it will be devastating, yes, but...but if we _win_..." he let that part go unsaid, but his eyes sparkled with the promise of good things to come. "We fought them yesterday. We can do it today. Tonight. Come the dawn we will know, one way or another."

"I have to go, don't I?" I asked pitifully. I already knew the answer.

We parted, then. He helped me with my armour like a squire, if squires could let their hands linger as long as he did without being severely disciplined. With a long, tender kiss, he sent me on my way. To death or victory. To battle.

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The war room was more crowded than I'd thought it would be as I finally eased my way through the press of bodies to take my place next to Nevalle. The Lord of Neverwinter's favourite paused slightly at my arrival but was soon back into full flow. He spoke of the threat to the land, and the need for us to stop it by any means necessary. He spoke of the battles that had been lost, and those that had been won. How our ancient enemy and Garius, his pawn, could not be allowed to see another morning. These were all things we knew. The strategy had been set in stone a week prior, and had been tweaked only slightly since then. Some time before Nasher had finished, Casavir caught my eye, in full armour, and calm as the daybreak. His expression barely moved from what I had come to know as that same face he always put on when he was expected to be a paladin and nothing else, but something softened around his eyes, and that was enough for the tension gripping around my throat to ease ever so slightly.

We finalised the plans for the evening. We'd known they would strike at night. Casavir, with all his experience, had spoken more than once on the fastest and most efficient ways to take out an army of undead. The best, of course, was ensuring you faced them in daylight, where most of their number would burn. We didn't have that luxury, and with the siege towers being raised in the distance there was no doubt we were in for a struggle. I divided up my companions and lieutenants as best I could. Casavir was on the walls with the Greycloak soldiers, Khelgar leading his Dwarvish clanmen, Sand and Qara were on the battlements along with that Startear fellow. For once I trusted Qara to do a good job. After all, I was essentially just asking for her to point and shoot. Even _she_ couldn't have a problem with that. Ammon I needed near me in case the Shadow Reavers made an appearance. Zhjaeve would be on the walls with a number of other clerics to give aid to those below. Neeshka wouldn't be much use in a siege, and she'd told me so herself, her demonic eyes apologetic. I told her to stick with me and take out anyone I didn't see in time. And Bishop...

I scanned the room once more. Yes, he was gone. Despite the frustration welling up inside me, I knew I would have been even more shocked if I'd found he'd stayed. He would be leagues away by now, laughing at the stupid Harbourman who'd got herself into a fix even _she_ couldn't talk her way out of. I'd asked him to lead the archers stationed along the battlements. Telling them where to shoot, what targets to go for. He'd gruffly agreed, stating that without his help they'd be as likely to shoot each other as the enemy. Now that I knew Daeghun was to be among their number, I was happier to let Bishop go. I was foolish, I told myself, for thinking that just because he'd been here this long he'd stick around until the end. The sword of Gith hummed quietly in its scabbard, apparently sensing the incoming battle.

"...and that, I believe, is all that needs to be said. Unless you wish to say a few words, Knight-Captain?" Nevalle enquired, all eyes slipping to me as I hesitantly cleared my throat. In front of me were my companions, my lieutenants, my friends, not to mention some of the most powerful men in the country. What could I possibly say to any of them that would be of any help at all?

"I..." that was a good start, "I want to thank all of you. From the bottom of my heart." At least I was being sincere. I let the words flow as they had so often done in the past. "I've lost damn near everything I have in this war, and I'm sure the same is true for many of you. So many lie dead, and I know, as you do, that if we fail we will join them. There will be no second chance. No hope for this land to recover. But...but should we _win_...should we fight back the darkness that has taken our homes and loved ones...then we will have done a truly great thing. I fight for the precious little I have left, and today, tonight, I ask you to fight with me. Not because I'm some Knight from Neverwinter," I saw Nevalle bristle slightly, but he remained silent, "not even because I'm your Captain...but because you want to defend this place and your lives as badly as I do. And then, maybe, we can start to rebuild what was lost."

There was a general murmur of agreement and approval. I could tell it was what some of them had been waiting for. The confirmation that they weren't being sent to die by someone too rich or too old to fight for themselves, but that this was genuinely our last chance. Our last line of defence. It didn't matter why they fought, just as long as they fought with everything they had. As the soldiers filed out the room, a few faces jogged my memory, and I realised that many of them were relatively new recruits. They might have been civilians not six months back. They were ordinary men, with ordinary courage, and they were being asked to do an impossible thing. If they failed, they would not be thanked or revered with monuments as they might once have been, they would be forgotten to the ages along with Neverwinter itself. If they succeeded, they would watch as those like Nevalle who had the strength and courage and conviction of ten men were showered with praise. It didn't seem fair to me. It never had.

Nevalle gave me a short, curt nod to indicate that now was the time. I gave him one back and told those remaining to make their final preparations. There were still precious minutes before they arrived. There were things I still had time to do.

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She wasn't in her room. Something was wrong. I moved as quickly as I could to the infirmary, and sure enough her muffled cries could be heard from within. My heart plummeted in my chest as I pushed open the door to see Kendra being helped onto a bed, her eyes screwed shut as she bit out another curse, her hand pressing against her belly as if that would help with the pain.

"Is she alright?" I asked, rushing over to her side and taking one of her hands in mine.

"Evie…" Kendra croaked out in a strained voice, her eyes barely opening enough to look at me, "It's coming…now…I'm…I…I don't…" her next words were cut off as another scream erupted from her throat. Her forehead was covered in droplets of sweat, and her face was turning redder with every ounce of effort she put into her labour. It was, perhaps, the least convenient time possible for Kendra's baby to announce its arrival into the world, but then things like this rarely waited for an opportune moment.

"She'll be fine, lass, I've done this more'n once, you know," Bertha said in her thick, deep accent as she propped Kendra up with pillows and pushed her wild hair back from where it was stuck to her face. "And this girl's a fighter. She'll pull through, don't you worry. I ain't lost one yet and I ain't gonna start today." She placed a hand on Kendra's belly and felt around. "Looks like this round's over, lass. Least for a while. Catch your breath."

"Evie…they're here…aren't they…" Kendra looked up at me and her eyes, wide and glossed with tears welling up told me she was just as scared of that as she was of this. I nodded, crouching down by her bedside and squeezing her hand, not really knowing what else to do.

"Let me worry about that," I started, "You just concentrate on this and let me worry about keeping you safe. It'll be over before you know it."

"Yeah…one way or another, right?" She gave me a weak, brave smile and squeezed my hands in return. "I know you'll fight 'em to the end. I know you'll beat 'em. Every moment I've had I've been prayin' for you to come out on top." She stifled a groan and clutched at her belly. "But that won't happen with you here. You gotta go…" Her eyes met mine again and the fierce determination in them sent the unspoken message that she'd keep up her end of the bargain if I kept up mine. We wouldn't be any closer to living through the night if I spent it here. Reluctantly, I nodded, cradling her head and kissing her hair fiercely before I wished her all the luck in the world and left.

My feet carried me the long way around to the courtyard. I told myself it was so I could pick up any stragglers, make sure everything was set, but deep down I knew it was because I didn't ever want to arrive. The knot in my stomach I'd been ignoring until now was growing and twisting, leeching at every scrap of resolve I had left. It had never felt real until now. I could hear the raised voices in the distance as I approached the door to the courtyard, but the battle wasn't upon us just yet. The door was swung open, and the whole ghastly scene was before me in flickering torchlight. The darkness seemed palpable, crushing, impermeable. And it was only when I felt his hands on my shoulders and my eyes flickered to the hard, steady gaze he fixed me with, that I realised I'd been standing there for a while.

"I..."

"I know," Casavir said. Of course he knew. I'd barely spoken of anything else. He gave a wry, humourless smile and looked away from me, to the full moon that crept from its prison behind the clouds. "And if we are to die, at least today is fitting."

"Why?" I asked quietly, my voice little more than a whisper.

"It is the day of Kelemvor. The god of the dead. The Feast of the Moon." Something hit my chest, and the air was sucked from my lungs. My mouth fell open, and my face in horror at the cruelty of it all. Casavir looked at me, puzzled, "It's no omen, if that's what you're thinking. There's no reason that—"

"It's my birthday," I interrupted, chewing on my lower lip, "It's my _fuckin'_ birthday." I'd barely been keeping track of the dates as it was. I knew it was sometime soon, but...now? This day, of all days? Could the gods be so cruel? I was twenty years old today. I was twenty and I was standing in my very own Keep about to lead an army against the minions of the King of Shadows. I wondered what the eighteen year old girl who'd left West Harbour with her head in the clouds would think about all this.

Casavir stepped forward suddenly, sliding his arms around my shoulders and pressing a kiss to my temple. If he'd wished me a happy day I'd have punched him in the throat, lover or not. He didn't, though. Instead, he stroked back my hair where it was pulled into a tight braid, and whispered, "And you will live to see another. I swear it." He coaxed my face up to his and kissed my mouth, like a pledge that lingered on my lips through the night. In his arms for that night and for now I found the haven amidst the chaos I'd sought all this time. There, a gleam of hope entered my heart, telling me that I could live to see this dawn, and many more. There, I tasted peace. "You are the strongest person I know. And I know it is not in you to give up. Not now, not ever." Another kiss, and the steel in my soul strengthened. "I love you."

The words sprang forth to the tip of my tongue, and I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. I could feel the words burning in my throat. I cursed my cowardly tongue. "I..." there was a long, pregnant pause. I was a damn fool. Afterwards, I told myself, after the battle I would tell him. I would tell him everything in my heart, and I would praise the gods for finding it in their infinite goodness to give me more than one night with my paladin. A small smile pulled at his lips.

"I know."

And that was all that needed to be said. At least at that time. I stepped back from him, squaring my shoulders and lifting my head, feeling the command rippling up my spine until I stood straight and proud. The Knight-Captain I was. I'd earned the title through blood, and I wouldn't lose it in death. Not tonight.

"On your order, Captain," Casavir said, straightening, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

I heard a shout. A scream in the distance. With a crushing inevitability, they had come.

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The taste of copper in my mouth became unbearable in that instant, and I spat to one side, the dark stain of my own blood on the ground jerking me back to my senses. We hadn't lost yet. The sky was fading from black to blue to pink, and the dawn was near. That was the lifeline that pulled me onwards. If we could just hold them back for a while longer. Just a little while longer…

The next wave was approaching the outer gates, which had long been breached open, the doors lying splintered and the stone around them singed and crumbling. Still, the enemy were being funneled through, and only one siege tower at a time could enter, so that was a blessing. The healers worked faster than I could follow, taking full advantage of the brief respite we'd been given. Most of the soldiers were bent over, their hands on their knees as they fought to catch their breath. It had been a relentless battle so far, and yet, somehow we were still holding strong. I hadn't faltered yet. That was more than could be said for some, however. A man, a boy, really, huddled against the wall, his mouth working soundlessly and his eyes wide with terror. Some of the soldiers today had never seen the undead. Some of them had never killed. Adrenaline was still coursing through my blood, and I didn't want to lose it. My fist closed around the front of his jerkin and I hoisted him up against the wall. His eyes locked with mine as I shouted at him above the din to hold strong or die, it was almost over. I tried not to breathe in, even as the heady haze of battle slowly wore off and a cool blanket of dread began to settle over me once more as the enormity of the task still ahead, the weight of this victory, and the very limits put on human endurance all crashed in one great wave against us, eating away at even the most courageous. That was why I held my breath as I locked him in place with my glare. I didn't want to inhale and catch his fear, his panic. I couldn't let myself be taken in. Not now. I released the soldier and he scurried off to join the others, his step faltering but his eyes clear and sharp.

I didn't want to die. _Especially_ not on my birthday. And I was scared that I wouldn't have a choice. I didn't know what would happen when my soul found its way to the other side, and that uncertainty was worse than even the rabid enemies at our gates. I claimed to worship Sune, but that was, when it really came down to it, a lie. I was rather fond of her, and occasionally I'd offer up a murmur of thanks when things went my way. Death haunted every step I took in this battle, and I had a dull sensation that my paltry devotion wasn't enough this time…

I tallied up my companions. The ones that I could see were standing, and those I couldn't should have already fallen back to the Keep. We were lasting longer than I'd have thought possible, but some of the siege towers were still up. If we didn't get them down soon I didn't know how well we'd do when they finally reached the inner walls. The blade of Gith hummed with energy, reminding me of exactly how much power I wielded, and of just how much damage I could do if I put my mind to it. The archers and spellcasters were perched high enough so the outer walls weren't much of an obstacle when it came to targeting the siege towers. I made a split second decision.

"Kana!" I yelled, already running, "Get them to throw everything we have at those towers! I'll hold them off at the outer gate! Get ready to close them off!" I heard a shout of protest. Several, in fact, but I heeded none of them as I charged ahead, readying my blade. To death or glory. Perhaps both. The first of them spilled through as I approached, and with a brutal battle cry I swiped my blade in front of me, the shards tearing off the hilt and hitting the hated enemy in a storm of blades. I didn't give them time to recover as the blade reformed itself. I sliced them down, one after the other, every moment of training, every battle in my life coming back to me in full force as if it had all been in preparation for this one, crazed moment of bloodlust.

Others had joined me now, though they hung back from where I fought, careful not to get caught in the wave of destruction. Energy I didn't know I had rushed through my veins. They kept coming, and coming, and as the bodies piled up before me like a sacrifice, more spilled over. I didn't stop, not for a second, not even to think about the insanity of what I was doing. I barely noticed when the strap of my shinguard was sliced open, narrowly missing my leg itself. I was buying us precious time. That was all that I needed to know. In the back of my mind I thought of myself as a baby bird taking first flight. I worked on instinct, and the second I realised what I was doing I'd most likely falter and fall to my death.

But until that moment, I was invincible. I was a goddess, a shieldmaiden, a warrior, defending my home and my life. I would not falter, I would not surrender.

I tasted copper in my mouth, and fought back the beginnings of exhaustion as it leaked through my resolve. I felt my arms burning, and refused to take notice. Two of the siege towers were burning, and every so often an arrow flew past my head to embed itself in an enemy. The power of the Illefarn gave me strength, and my voice was strong and clear as the words of their rituals rang out. The shadows dispersed before my eyes, the vampires and the skeletons lay battered and broken. My sword sang with me as we carved a path of blood and ichor, hacking down anything that dared to breech the gates. The precious few that got past me were soon dispatched by the soldiers that fought loyally alongside me. A wave of vampires came, and I felt heat swell up inside me. The adrenaline I'd worked up had reached fever pitch, and this time I didn't try to control it, I didn't even try to aim it. I simply screamed from the depths of my being as the flame erupted from my centre and rippled out onto the battlefield, a blast of pure, furious energy that sent them shooting back a good ten feet, incinerating those creatures that were closest and scorching the stone walls back.

And then I heard the cry of victory, the sound I'd been longing to hear.

"The towers are down!"

"Daybreak!"

"Fall back!"

My concentration broke as hope for the battle bloomed in my soul. And then, at the worst possible time, exhaustion hit me. I turned sloppily and started to sprint as fast as my battered feet would carry me. The gate seemed so far away. My throat burned as I heaved even more air into my parched, dry lungs, pleading with them to carry me just a little bit further. The soldiers that still stood had just made it through. I could see the lookout perched on the top of the gates, waiting for me so he could close the grille. And then heat and agony shot through my calf, and I stumbled with a cry. Dimly, I registered that there was something sticking out of my leg, and the warmth I felt was a mixture of the pain and the blood flowing freely into my boots. I tried, as with the rest of my injuries, to push it to the back of my mind. The gates were so close, and so, so far away at the same time.

'_It is not in you to give up…_'

I owed it to him to keep limping forward, no matter how much it hurt, no matter how my eyes burnt with the blood and sweat and tears trickling down my face.

'_I'm going to die_…' came the distant, cool thought. I was frantic about everything else, but the part of me that was still rational accepted this with little argument. The next thought I had was that maybe paladins really _did_ lie after all…

A gust of wind, of white light, shot past me in a bright arc towards the enemy. I'd heard them hot on my heels, and then they were forced back by something unseen, something familiar. An arm, covered in plate mail, grabbed me around my waist and hoisted me to my feet, ignoring my whimper of pain, and yanked my other arm around his shoulders. I didn't open my eyes. I didn't need another sensory assault. Instead I put one foot in front of the other and kept moving until I was lowered to the ground and I heard a shout to close the gates.

He'd come for me again. One of these days, I thought as healing magic from several distinct sources washed over me, I'd have to save _his_ life for a change. A bottle was forced through my lips and I gulped the sickly tasting potion down without protest. I opened my eyes and gasped as the arrow was pulled from my leg, Casavir's hand immediately cupping the wound and knitting it closed with a prayer. My gaze met his for a brief moment, and I didn't think I'd ever seen him so angry. He opened his mouth to speak, no doubt to ask me what the _hells_ I'd been thinking with that little stunt, when a ragged, unbelieving shout from the battlements cut him off.

"The gates! They're…they're not closing!"

Oh. Oh gods.

"And they won't."

No. I knew that voice. It…it couldn't be. He couldn't have…

I scrambled to my feet, leaning heavily on my paladin, and sought him out in the crowd. There he was, just as I'd thought, standing on the battlements on the other side o the courtyard like he had all the right in the world to be there.

"Bishop!" I yelled, demanding to be heard above the panicked noises around us, "Bishop, what the _fuck_ did you do?"

"You didn't think I could do it, _did_ you?" he spat, even as I broke from Casavir and tried to run towards him on my leg which was still knitting itself back together. "You don't know the first fuckin' thing about me, _Captain_, and don't act so godsdamned surprised. You should've listened to me." _Gods_, I was so angry at him. Of all the things he could have done, of all the ways he could have shown just how little he thought of me, he'd had to do something to screw the whole lot of us over. He _had_ to make a statement. If I didn't die tonight, I knew I'd remember this very moment, this perfect instant of clarity, for a long, long time. That was, no doubt, exactly what he'd intended. And, the funny thing was, he was right. I _didn't_ know the first thing about him, nor what he was capable of. Clearly, I never had…

"An' that's it?" I shouted louder, refusing to let him go without giving him one _hell_ of a hard time over it, "You're just gonna run like some—"

"I ain't gonna _die_, Evelyn! Not for you, not for Neverwinter, not for _anyone_!" His eyes narrowed at me, even as I drew closer, "Maybe you'll see the wisdom of this if you don't get yourself butchered like the rest of your lackeys." And that was it. He turned and leapt from the battlements, disappearing like a wisp of smoke into the dawn.

The dawn. The sunlight. I forced myself to forget about the ranger, to wait until later to let my rage at him show, and I remembered that now, _now_ we had a fighting chance. My eyes stung. I guess I _was_ that angry at him after all.

"Archers, on the walls!" I roared, my voice hoarse, half from the abuse I'd been giving it, half from the tears that had sprung to my eyes uninvited. "Keep your eyes on those the sun doesn't take out first!" The men were already crowded around the main gate, hacking away at the undead that made it past the archers. I felt the warmth on my face suddenly, and lifted my eyes to the first rays of the dawn. It was creeping over the horizon, and before long it would bathe the courtyard in light. Just a few minutes more, and—

"Captain! Kana! The light! It's…it's not stopping them!" Somehow the voice from the lookout tower made it down past the clash of swords and cries of battle.

No. _No_…

A sickening ripple of laughter echoed through the courtyard, and all eyes were on the shadows curling from the air and taking shape. Something inside me went cold. _He_ was here…

He looked like a Reaver, but I knew at once who he was. There was something different about the fevered glow to his eyes, the richness of his robes. It was Garius at last. He hadn't even waited for me to come to him. Apparently he wanted this over with as much as _I_ did. Neeshka was at my side in an instant, Khelgar at my other flank. Just behind Garius I could see Casavir, his eyes on me and waiting for a sign. Sand had turned from his place on the battlements fingers crackling with lightning. Ammon, I knew, was waiting not too far away. The soldiers that weren't huddled at the gate had gathered around the King of Shadows' pet in a rough circle.

"You were _foolish_, dear Evelyn, to think the minions of shadow would be frightened by a little _sunlight_…" his voice was a raspy, sickly whisper through my mind. It took all the composure I had not to simply charge him right there and then. He told me of his Lord, of how _pathetic_ my little crusade was, how much he'd _enjoy_ gutting me. It was then I told him I hated wordy opponents, and to just _fight_ if that was what he was here to do. He laughed once more, and disappeared in a vortex created from pure darkness, tendrils whipping at the air before they dissipated into nothingness. In his place rose a creature from nightmares, bathed in shadows, with long, thick claws spiking out from its hands and feet. Soulless blue eyes flashed as it screamed, a sound that tore through my ears and had several of the soldiers clutching their hands to their heads to try and drown it out.

So, this was how he wanted to play it.

I summoned the strength of the Sword of Gith, the blessings of the Illefarn, everything I had, and cried out the order to attack.

**A.N.** And now that you're here, why not tell me that someone other than me gets a kick out of this, and leave a review? Even if it's just to tell me you've read this far, I promise it'll help me write all the quicker! Love you all for putting up with my total lack of updates for far, _far_ too long...


	28. Chapter 28

**A.N.** Here it is, the last chapter in this part of the story. MotB didn't exist when I started writing, so I haven't exactly planned ahead, but I guess we'll figure that part out when it gets here. I guess that would be now. Hmm...

ChryseisLaurea: Thanks for still reading :) You were an awesome beta, and without you I probably (definitely) would have abandoned this story some time ago.

Havmerci: I do think of the Grobnar fans, but the fact that I don't focus on the other characters so much is part because the POV is first person and the main characters are all pretty distracted by each other, part because they're just not as interesting to write (for me) as Evelyn-Casavir-Bishop, and part because I'm lazy and don't really think of them. Very, very soon I'm rewriting these first 28 chapters precisely because I want to develop some relationships a little more, and give some more screen time to some other characters. So, if the next update doesn't come for a while, you'll know why!

Chrissyleena: Thank you so much! Your review made me feel guilty about ignoring this chapter for a few days, so I got straight back into writing it out. The whole point of this fic was to make Casavir more appealing, and considering Obsidian have apparently done everything in their power to make him unattractive, boring and just plain _weird_ (he's supposed to be 'late 30s', the PC's default age is 18. If that's not creepy I don't know what is), so it didn't take much effort. I wasn't much of a Casavir fan in game, but I saw potential, and now I'm so enamoured with the Casavir I've created in Fortune that whenever I play through NWN2 again I'm always like 'who's this creepy guy with the eyebrows?'

On with the chapter! There's a fair amount of Qara-bashing, so be warned. Just like with Elanee, a lot of what she says can be taken in one way or another. I've decided to go for the Qara-as-attention-hungry-aristocratic-psychopath route here, as you may notice. Also, I've always thought Bishop joining with Black Garius was completely out of character (especially if you had high influence) as if all it takes is your character saying a few stock lines to pursued him out of the actual fight, chances are he'd realise it was a bad idea beforehand. Qara probably _would_ join him, but I doubt my KC would let her get that far. You'll see. This is a little more game-dialogue-heavy than normal, but bear with me. It's been a long week ;)

**Chapter 28**

It had all happened so quickly. One moment we were fighting for our lives, calling upon reserves of energy and throwing everything we had at the enemy...and the next, the lookout was announcing their retreat. Evelyn was clearly exhausted, and the second she was out of immediate danger she'd slumped against the Keep's stone walls and slid down to the ground, her head buried in her arms which were folded over her knees. The remnants of their army were pursued and cut down, Kana and Nevalle leading the charge. Somehow, against all the odds stacked against us, we had won. We had emerged victorious from what I'd long thought to be suicide. Every muscle in my body screamed at me that I'd run myself ragged this evening, suicide or not. I barely managed to stumble over to Evelyn before I dropped to the ground next to her, my feet thanking me for the brief respite.

Wearily, I dropped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her towards me. She complied slowly, the plate armour we both wore hindering her movements, and settled her head in the crook of my neck, her breathing rough, but deep and cleansing. I summoned up a final bit of strength from the heavens and felt the warmth of healing magic running through my body and hers. It was superficial pain-relief, and would do little for pulled muscles or serious wounds, but it was something, and it would let us rest without the pain clouding our thoughts. I felt her shaking, and my heart leapt to my throat for a moment before I realised she was laughing.

She was laughing.

"I can't believe it," she wheezed, a smile in her voice, "We're alive. We're alive and they're running away. We...won. After all that...that panic...they're gone."

That was the long and short of it. I made a small noise of agreement, not really trusting my burning throat to actually speak. As she sat there, nestled in my arms just like we weren't both battle-weary, cut-up and wearing full sets of armour, it was hard to remember that I was still angry with her. She'd just run off into the middle of a battlefield, _alone_, like fighting hordes of vampires and skeletons and shadows all coming one after the other was the most natural thing in the world. She could have been killed. Forget that, she _should_ have been killed. There was no way anyone else in that position would have survived the things she did. And then when that arrow had flown through the air and embedded itself in her calf...

Unconsciously, I hugged her tighter. That look on her face, just the memory of it was enough to send chills on my spine. It wasn't just the excruciating agony I knew she'd been feeling, nor the frustration of not being able to move faster...it was this strange resignation in her expression. Like she knew she was going to die, and it was just a question of _which_ exact moment. Of course I'd run to her. I didn't think I'd be able to stop myself even if I wanted to. I'd saved her life before, but not since...not since I knew how I felt. And now, even thinking about how close she'd been to killing herself, an icy hand of dread gripped my heart. I pressed a kiss into the matted, damp hair at her forehead.

We'd won the battle. Now there was just one more fight. I swore to myself there and then that I'd not come this far just to lose her. Against all the odds we had won the day, and after the one, final push which awaited us in the Mere, we would be free. Today, we would defeat the King of Shadows. Today, we would start a new life.

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He'd held me for what felt like hours. Maybe it was just my body, so grateful for the rest, telling me I'd spent more time curled in his arms since midnight than I had fighting. At least my mind had lingered more on love and less on death. I spent my time there marvelling at the ridiculous notion that we'd come out of that battle alive, and thankful to no end that I had this man to offer the support my legs refused to give me. But all good things must come to an end, and before long he'd helped me stand, my arm slung around his shoulders and his hand supporting my waist, and took me to the infirmary. There, the air had been filled with prayers and instructions and, I noticed grimly, the strained cries of a woman still in labour a few rooms away. I desperately wanted to go to her, to give her what comfort I could, but I couldn't break my concentration. And there was still so much to do.

In the infirmary, scrolls and potions and muttered words had replaced the lost sleep and blood, and had knitted up my wounds and soothed my aching muscles. The rest of my companions had been dotted around receiving much the same treatment. We all knew what was to come, but none of us wanted to talk about it. No one, it seemed, but Aldannon. The second we'd arranged ourselves in the War room he'd burst in with the news that he'd be able to take us to the Illefarn ruins at a moment's notice so we could finally rid the world of the King of Shadows. Honestly, it was the very last thing I wanted to think about. I'd come so, _so_ far, and I was so close to the end that it was almost cruel for the fates to expect me to be able to push myself just this little bit further. But then my eyes met Casavir's and I knew that, for his sake, I'd fight until the end. The _very_ end. And then, once it was all over, I'd tell him how much I loved him, how I didn't think I'd have made it this far if he hadn't been there, and how I'd like nothing more than to wake up in his arms every morning for the foreseeable future...

But that was all over one last hurdle. The King of Shadows was coming, and I wanted to be the one to give him a great big Faerûnian welcome with the business end of my Blade of Gith.

We made what little plans we could with the information we had, but I knew we couldn't put it off for too much longer. As we grouped together so Aldannon could teleport us, I took comfort in the thought of how far we'd come. The same rag-tag party of misfits and soldiers, heroes and criminals, but each of us had grown in one way or another, and not just through the greater experience or better gear. It saddened me to know this was probably the last battle I'd fight with all of them, but with that thought came the rush of knowing that this truly _would_ be the last battle. And then we would be free.

A flash of blinding light, the tingle of magic, the feeling of one's earthly presence bursting into millions of tiny pieces and then whooshing back together again, and we were there.

I'd never get used to being teleported. It always made me feel seasick.

I took a deep, cleansing breath, and with a start realised I was in the Mere. The smell of the swamp and the thick, clinging air wasn't something you forgot in a hurry. The fog cleared and I took in the matted foliage and dense bogs in the surrounding area. The sun through the trees told me it was an hour or two to midday. So, no stars to help me figure out where the hells we were...

"Well this is just _great_!" I'd forgotten how aggravating Qara's voice was. She was powerful, and very, very useful when all she was asked to do was point and burn, but unlike the rest of us she hadn't got that way through years of training, discipline and generally getting the crap beaten out of her. I couldn't help but think that _that_ was the reason she was so, well, _annoying_. I'd worked and suffered to get the way I was. She'd just been born with it, and had barely even _attempted_ to gain mastery over her powers, and acted like that was a good thing. It was irritating, to say the least. "You always take us to the _loveliest_ places in the Realms, Evelyn." A rebuke formed on my lips but she had already moved on. "Are you _sure_ that tome worked right, Sand?"

"Yes, it did," the man himself said slowly, taking in his surroundings. "But without knowing exactly where the King of Shadows is—"

"Ha, so it _was_ useless, then..." Qara interrupted, rolling her eyes. I clenched my fists

"We wouldn't even be here without it, you _idiot_ girl," Sand started, the crackling of magical energy around his fingertips telling me he was getting angry, "so I suggest–"

"It worked, alright?" I said, loud enough to cut through both of their voices. Infighting was the very last thing I needed now. With the goal so tantalisingly close, I didn't want to let myself be distracted. "This was as close as we could get, clearly, and bickering will solve nothing. We need to move, _now_."

"Oh yeah?" Qara yelled, stepping towards me with flames dancing in her eyes, "Well _maybe_ Aldanon just chose to send us here! Or Sand – did you think of _that_, oh glorious leader? Maybe it was the two of you working _together_, tricking us all into coming here!"

"Enough!" Casavir rarely raised his voice, so when I heard him shout at Qara I was surprised enough to let my urge to punch the smirk off of her face lessen slightly. "This is ridiculous," he continued in a level tone now that he'd gained their attention, "we can't stay here any longer, we have to–"

"Oh, _like_ I'm gonna listen to another gods-damned sermon from a bottled-up tin-can like you!" Qara screeched, her voice taking on a shrill, jagged quality, "You're always _defending_ her! Everyone is! Even _Bishop_ never let me say a _word_ against her, and she never even _cared_!" It hit me suddenly that this had never been about that stupid tome in the first place. The black hate I felt rising to the surface of her words stunned me for a moment. I knew we were hardly friendly, but...I had no idea she felt like this. Perhaps it was a testament to how distracted I'd been over the past few months...

"He stayed this whole time, all because of _you!_" she continued, turning to me, her fingers twitching as fire danced across her palms, "He never even _noticed_ me! No one did, it was always about—"

"Shut the hell up, Qara!" I yelled, stepping towards her and baring my teeth, "I don't give a damn what you think of me, but if you ain't got the will to keep it in your empty head at a time like this, then—"

"Then _what_?" she did the same, and we were now barely a foot apart, squaring up to one another, "Then you'll kill me? I'm not afraid of you!"

"Maybe you _should_ be," I growled, not _wanting_ this to come to a fight but doubting she'd let it be resolved any other way. Besides, I wanted to know _now_ if she was planning some last-minute switch of allegiance. I'd thought about it before, and I knew I could take her if it came down to that. She was powerful, but I had the greater skill by far, and, more to the point, I was surrounded by people whose hands were on their weapons even as we argued.

"You're not as tough as you think you are, _Knight-Captain_! I'm sick of you and the others always telling me what to do when _I'm_ the one with the power, _not you!_" Her last words were punctuated with a roar of conjured flame, and I reflexively jumped back and braced myself. Instead, though, I saw her rage turn to frustration and surprise as a pale blue light surrounded her and she froze, mid-gesture.

"And this was what I feared all along," Sand muttered, his hands outstretched as his hold person spell did its work. She'd been too preoccupied to ward against it, and even now I could see her straining against the bonds. "The girl has become a child, and now that child is our enemy. It was foolish of me to hope otherwise..."

He'd probably known and disliked her more than any of us, and now I saw why, in its full, ugly entirety. She was an angry, unstable, attention-craving woman. Once I'd thought her jibes at me were more for show than anything else. I'd kept her around because I knew she had nowhere else, and because a well-placed pillar of flame had its uses at times, but it seemed I'd underestimated her. I looked to the others, saw their ready weapons, and wondered if I was the only one who hadn't seen this coming a league away.

"Can you send her back?" I asked, turning to Ammon.

"Not precisely to the Keep, but I can send her _away_, if that's what you wish," he replied with narrowed eyes.

"Don't kill her," I warned, thinking that even if Ammon was a _reformed_ warlock, Qara had still grated on his nerves as much as anyone's.

As he readied his spell, I approached the still-fuming sorceress, taking in her blazing, angry eyes and the vicious twist to her lips, and feeling a twinge of regret about the fact that I hadn't even _tried_ to reach her before she turned on me. More to the point, I didn't _want_ to. I knew I should have been above letting her get to me, but that was easier said than done.

"We have to go on without you," I said in a low, dangerous voice, "because even if _you_ think it's okay to throw a tantrum in the middle of a battle for the world you live in, the rest of us have no choice but to keep going. Now run back to your daddy, the Academy, hells, I don't _care_ where you go, long as I never have to see you again." I turned to the others, my face hard, "And if anyone else thinks they're gonna have a change of heart between now and when the King of Shadows is dead, you're not welcome here. I'm ready to fight and die for this if I have to. Anyone who isn't willing to do the same has no place by my side." There was relative silence, which calmed me a little. I didn't genuinely think we'd have any more turncoats, now that both Qara and Bishop were out of the picture. '_And Elanee..._' my treacherous thoughts reminded me. For someone who was supposed to be a natural leader, I sure did leave a hell of a lot of people behind, dead or alive.

With a flash of light, Qara and her wretched expression were gone.

"Um, well, I didn't want to ruin the moment, but," Grobnar started, effectively cutting through the tension with that strange, confused voice of his, "it appears that Neeshka decided to leave without causing a fuss. Seeing as she's, well, _gone_," he finished with a nervous smile. I scanned the surrounding area quickly, wondering how I could have possibly realised she wasn't there in the first place.

"Eh?" Khelgar grunted, looking genuinely surprised, "did she sneak off?"

"No!" I exclaimed, refusing to believe the first thought that cropped up in my mind – that she'd deserted me just like the others. "She wouldn't have just left. Something must have happened."

"Know that she has been taken," came the cool, collected voice of Zhjaeve.

"By the King of Shadows?" Casavir asked, looking around the thick growths of trees and mosses around the swamp.

"Yes, that is so," she said, her eyes closed as if she was concentrating deeply, "and we must be on our guard. Our wills must be focussed on the task ahead. If we allow ourselves to be divided, in group or mind, then he will win, have no doubt."

And that was precisely what I was afraid of. Elanee had left. And then Bishop just a few hours ago, and now Qara. I didn't think any one of the strange collection of men, women and machines I now travelled with would betray me, but with all that had happened I was worried that the cracks that had already formed were widening by the second. I berated myself for not taking more time out for my closest companions. I'd been so distracted by _one_ in particular that it had barely occurred to me that the others may well have been just as scared and vulnerable and in need of reassurance as I was. I'd make it up to the ones that stuck around after all this was over with.

"The gith is correct," Ammon said coldly, "We need to reach the King of Shadows – and quickly. I know the way. It is not an ideal route, but it is the only one before us. We must move on."

"It is as you say," I replied, nodding for him to lead on.

"The defences of Illefarn are still in place," he muttered as he gripped his dagger and started towards the edge of the clearing, "We could not have arrived any closer, even if we knew exactly where the King of Shadows was. We should expect a great deal of resistance before we find him."

"By the undead, or others?" Casavir's question was innocent enough, but I knew what he referred to. Would we fight through hordes of shadows and vampires only to be met with former allies who'd switched sides?

"Neeshka wouldn't," I insisted, not looking at either of them. I just couldn't believe it of the fiery tiefling. Even if I hadn't been so attentive recently, we were still friends, and we had an understanding of sorts. She wouldn't betray me. She'd resist until the end.

"But Bishop might," Sand said carefully. He was right. Bishop _had _betrayed me, and I had no doubts that he'd do it again, but to take up with Black Garius? I couldn't imagine him going to such lengths just to spite me.

"I don't think he'd drop one master just to take up with another," I thought out loud, "More likely he's leagues away and we'll never see him again. It'd be for the best." I'd keep the possibility open, but I credited Bishop with more intelligence, if not integrity, than to fall for the King of Shadow's offers. "And as for Qara, I doubt she'd make it back here in time."

"And Elanee?" Ammon asked warily. It took me by surprise, but I tried not to let it show.

"Same as Bishop. Just because she doesn't like me doesn't mean she'd take up with my worst enemy." He nodded, satisfied, but as I glanced around to the determined faces of my group I noted that not everyone was so convinced. At least the Construct made a decent attempt at looking passive. Only time would tell, I supposed. As we walked, I sent a silent prayer to my goddess, in thanks and in pleading. I hadn't come this far just to have everything taken from me in the final hour.

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The final wraith went down at last as his True Name sent him screaming into the abyss. The twin doors loomed up ahead, in the heart of this cold, stone complex that had once been a holy place and was now defiled by shadow. Up until now we'd been lucky. No deaths, not even any serious wounds. Had we become stronger or were they just weaker? I hoped it was a little of both. I took a moment to turn back to my companions before we went in for the final kill. I owed them this much at least. They were all counting on me, my sword, and this big, stupid shard in my chest that had started it all off. Maybe it was the inevitability of it all that made me a hero. No one else could have done the things I'd done, simply because I was the only baby unlucky enough to die in her mother's arms with a shard of silver lodged in her chest. There had been times when I wanted to forget my fortune and run from it all, there had been tantrums and fits of childish, impotent rage, and there had been so, so many regrets. But through it all, I was here, and I was standing, and I was nearing the end. I'd lost three of my companions for good, mostly through my foolishness or unwillingness to compromise, but most of them remained.

Ammon, who I'd hated with such a passion at first, turned out to be more similar to me than I'd ever imagined. He'd never replace Shandra – I still felt choked up when I thought of what had happened to her – but he was atoning, and for that he had my respect. He deserved to be here by my side to fight for what he had lost more than any of them.

Sand, who I'd always liked and respected, even when he looked at me like I was the stupidest thing he'd ever encountered. He had a past, but all of us did, and he'd stayed with me this long. Him and Daeghun always reminded me of how strange it must be to be an elf. To have lived so long, through so much, to have such knowledge and experience, only to be stuck with a bunch of ungrateful, ignorant, hot-headed humans. Still, I liked to think Sand had a soft spot for my _particular_ brand of human fallibility.

Zhjaeve, who I still barely knew, but who I trusted with my life. I had no doubts that she'd leave just as soon as this mess was cleared up. She'd more than repaid any debt she thought she owed me, and I hoped that she'd find happiness in this world or another.

Khelgar, who always had a place in my heart after those three days of marching I'd undertaken with just him by my side, swapping stories and making the hours pass like minutes. He was fiercely protective, both of me and Neeshka, at least when the pair weren't arguing. I promised myself that I'd help him with his dream once I was finished with this nightmare. I'd once laughed at the thought of the most quintessentially Dwarvish Dwarf I'd ever known trying to become a monk, but I'd underestimated his resolve. If he still wanted to, I'd be thrilled to use whatever influence I had to get him taken under the monks' wing.

Grobnar, who was the strangest person I'd ever met. I didn't know if he was legitimately insane, or was just having a joke at everyone else's expense. He was one of four gnomes I'd met, the other three being either assassins or otherwise looking to cut my life short, so I supposed I should be thankful that he seemed to be loyal enough. I'd humoured him and even gone to search for the Wendersnaven, of course with no luck. He was good to have around in a fight, and he was genuine and kind enough, but I didn't think I'd be baring my soul to him any time soon. I wouldn't have been surprised if he left as soon as this battle was finished. I wouldn't mind if he stuck around, but I couldn't think why he'd want to, seeing as he was apparently closest to the huge, hulking chunk of metal that stood deathly still beside him.

The Construct just freaked me out.

My eyes finally rested on Casavir, and the hard set to his stormy blue eyes told me that nothing more needed to be said. He would be the first one I'd seek once the battle was over, and I pictured myself collapsing into his arms, weeping with joy as he kissed my hair, where I'd tell him how much I loved him and how happy I was now that it was all over...

It was hard not to get ahead of myself.

These days, I fancied myself a heroine from a storybook, who had fought from humble beginnings and who would emerge victorious from the final battle. It was just as hard to remember that this was reality, where nothing was set in stone, and where fate and fortune would play with their pawns as they wished. In all likelihood, just as this morning, death was a greater possibility than any of us wanted to think about. I tried to heed Ammon's words, however, and told myself that as long as we were strong and stayed together, as long as we remembered why we were here, we would be ok.

I steeled my expression, and motioned for the Construct to burst through the doors. A dark, shadowy room, crawling with moss and vines and glyphs which leapt from the walls met us on the other side. There were shadows dotted around, and of course Garius himself would be there among the blackness, but my eyes were drawn to where Neeshka shivered against a pillar, her knees drawn up to her chest. I skidded over to her and ripped at her bonds, checking her over for wounds. Her eyes lifted to mine, shining with tears.

"I kept holding on…waiting for you…" she coughed, blood splattering on the ground, "I knew you'd…make it here…wouldn't leave me…I…I _knew_ it." I helped her to her feet and Zhjaeve came forward, her hands dancing as she recited a healing spell, "It's what kept me going…through all the…torture…"

"What'd he do?" I gritted out through clenched teeth.

"Tried to get me to…_turn_ on you…but I held on…knew you'd come for me…"

"It's ok, Neesh, you're safe, just–"

"_No_, we have to…have to get out of–"

"What in the _hells_?" Khelgar's cry made my head snap up towards where the shadows were thickening, and where the air somehow became heavier, stifling...

"Garius," I spat, my hand closing around the hilt of my sword as Neeshka stumbled to the back of our group, her wounds still knitting together. He moved from the darkness like a wisp of shadow slithering across the ground, his flesh peeled from the skin of his face, which was now set in a perpetual, mocking grin. I could feel his raw magical energy from where I stood, my feet planted firmly in the stone, and reminded myself not for the first time that it wasn't just me fighting him, but my allies and my ancient, legendary sword, too. Maybe, just maybe, the odds were even.

"And so, you finally made it here," he started, his voice so similar to that of the man he'd once been, but with a strange, metallic echo, like he wasn't the only one speaking from that one mouth, "I am impressed, _Knight-Captain_. But, really, what did you think coming here would accomplish?" I hated wordy opponents. And I knew Garius liked to think he knew all about me and my motivations. Perhaps in his mind this was like a game of cat and mouse, where he toyed with me right up until the last moment where he got bored. I had a feeling, though, that I'd get bored a lot quicker. "You have done much to disrupt our war efforts. But you will answer for it – and you alone!"

That last part threw me off guard. I suspected he was trying to play his earlier defeat like it was inconsequential, and I knew better. But what did he mean by alone?

"Last I checked, you're still outnumbered, Luskan," I said neutrally, waiting for his next move.

"Ah yes, your companions... for them, perhaps, I will be prepared to offer mercy. After all, it is _you_ who led them, _you_ who ordered them here. And only _you_ should suffer for your sins. I spoke at some length with your friend Neeshka–" I'd kill him for that if nothing else, "...and though she seemed rather..._stuck_ in her ways, I doubt all of those you've picked up out of necessity will feel such a need to stay with you when it would be signing their death warrants..."

"You want to try to get them on your side?" I scoffed, feeling a little of my old bravado returning as I realised _this_ was his plan, "You're very welcome to try, but seein' as you're all corpsified an' hideous and just _reekin'_ of bad intentions, I don't think you'll get too far."

"And _you_ are the fool if you think all of your companions would follow you to death!" He hissed, his gaze raking over my companions as if trying to gauge how well his ploy was working. He settled, finally, on Neeshka, who was still pulling her composure together.

"I tortured her, it is true," He said with such relish that it took a great deal of self control not to shut him up forcefully. "But cutting open your fiendling "ally" revealed some interesting truths... beneath the skin. Wherever she goes, demons dog her footsteps and lie in her path. Zaxis... Mephasm... and I think it is more than coincidence. Lower Planes blood draws Lower Plane blood... and the stronger the ties, the stronger the pull..."

"What are you saying?" I yelled, baring my teeth.

"Your half-demon's companion has a much _richer_ heritage than even yours, Knight-Captain. And she has _just_ the right touch of demon blood in her veins to make some ancient Illefarn binding spells take root...provided enough blood is shed, of course," I knew he couldn't smile without lips, but it sure looked like it. "And once she ran out of screams, she learned to obey...didn't you, my dear?"

"Evelyn'll _kill_ you, you bastard!" Neeshka screamed, gritting her teeth against some unknown force, "And _then_ you'll see the Hells, I promise you!"

"Don't struggle, tiefling, save your energy for the battle to come," And it was then that I understood the meaning of his words, and the real reason why Neeshka had avoided looking me in the eyes since we found her, "Now, come! The execution of this tiresome, meddling Knight-Captain is a small price for your freedom, I assure you."

"I'm...so...so sorry, Evie," Neeshka croaked, even as her feet treacherously moved her forward. "I have to...I feel like...it's all pushing down on me...all of Illefarn...I...I can't..." For a split second I had no idea what to do. I couldn't fight against a friend, but I couldn't let her kill me. Instead, I decided to be stubborn and do neither. I closed the gap between us and grabbed her wrists, forcing her to look at me.

"Neeshka!" I snapped, "You're stronger than this spell-slingin' corpse! Come on, I _need_ you!"

"Come on, Fiendling," I heard Khelgar muttering behind me.

Something in our words must have gotten through to her. Either that or the desperation I felt leaking into my expression snapped her out of her haze and gave her the will to push the geas out of her mind.

"No!" She screamed, her forehead shining with sweat from the effort, "I won't do this!" She broke from me and pointed at Garius accusingly, "By the hells, even _you_ won't make me turn on the one person who showed me any kindness! And if you have to kill me for it, then give it your best shot!"

I clutched her wrist again and drew her back towards us, muttering my thanks as she moved to take her place with the rest of the group.

"I told you, even your spells won't work on us," I squared my shoulders, "Now is that all? Or–"

"Sand...you studied at the Hosttower, did you not?" Garius started as if I'd not been speaking at all, "and what relics you saw and envied there are nothing compared to the ones that lie here, the ancient secrets of Illefarn. The power you seek is here, yours for the taking, and with me you can—"

"Well, as _tempting_ as the offer to become one of the many shadow reavers we have already slain is, I shall pass. Not much future, you see - for you or them. Besides, if you think I'm with this one for the power, you clearly know nothing about me _or_ her. She has the strengths I lacked so long ago, and you are a fool indeed if you think I will be swayed by the likes of you. We have _nothing_ further to discuss." His words may well have been manufactured on the spot, but they sounded genuine enough to make me bristle with pride. Sand, who thought so little of everyone and everything around him, thought I was strong. That, at least, was something to hold on to.

"Why would we leave?" Grobnar piped up suddenly, cocking his head to one side and frowning thoughtfully, "I say, for a minion of evil, this Garius fellow doesn't seem to be very insightful when it comes to our group, not at all. It seems very silly indeed to waste one's breath like this when–"

"_Silence_, gnome!" Garius' voice echoed through the room, "I never desired your allegiance but you would do well to heed my words when—"

"When _what_, Garius?" I shouted, cutting him off, "When you make equally baseless offers to the rest of my group because you know you can't win on your own?"

"Perhaps, Knight-Captain, you should let _them_ speak for themselves? I'm sure that–"

"We ain't got _nothing_ to say to ye, shadow!" Khelgar roared, stepping forward, "I've followed this one from the Weeping Willow Inn to here, and I've followed _gladly_! Never regretted it once, and there's no way in the hells I'm backing down now!"

"Aye!" Ammon said gruffly, his face contorting into a snarl, "I've not come all this way, waited so long, just to switch sides at the final hour!"

If I didn't know any better, I'd say Garius was beginning to look worried. No doubt he'd been planning on having one or two allies on his side to even the odds.

"Ah, but _Casavir_," he spoke again, but was cut off almost instantly.

"If you knew _half_ of what you claim to, you'd know I'd sooner die than betray her trust," Casavir's voice was low and dangerous, and I could almost _feel_ the rage coming off him in waves. He wanted this over just as badly as I did.

"Know that this is the truth of the matter: if you fight us, you fight us all," Zhjaeve said with a note of finality, getting to the heart of the matter so simply, just as she always did. Garius made a small, dismissive noise, but I knew he was fazed.

"Well now, it was worth a try," With a gesture, the portal I'd barely noticed behind him was illuminated in bright, blue ripples of magic as a barrier was erected, "Forgive me...just a small precaution to shield the portal from the bloodshed to come. The King of Shadows is almost here."

"That just means he _ain't_ here yet," I spat, calling upon the power of the Illefarn to aid me in the fight that was seconds away, "But _I_ am, and I _swear_ you ain't getting away from this in one piece!"

And just like that, there were no more words, no more banter, no more waiting. The battle for Crossroad Keep had ended. The battle for the sword coast had just begun.

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An ear-splitting screech, and the creature impaled up to the hilt with the Blade of Gith vanished in ribbons of shadow. He was gone. The King of Shadows was dead. But at what cost? I stumbled backwards just as a rock the size of Khelgar crashed into the ground where I'd stood. The battering I'd taken during the battle was catching up with me, and it wasn't gentle. My hand flew to my side where I could feel the damp of fresh blood through my twisted and broken plate mail. Something strange had happened to my head, and as I blinked the room began to swim and refused to come into focus. I heard shouts, but they sounded far-off, like I was in a dream. Where...where was I?

Someone grabbed my wrist and shouted my name, jolting me back into reality. Dreams shouldn't hurt this much. I focused on his face, his perfect, beautiful face, and, numbly, managed to follow him by placing one foot methodically in front of the other. The main doorway was caved in, I registered dimly, and we were trying to find another way out. My ears were ringing again. A noise, maybe a voice? I forced myself to pay attention, to keep awake.

"Evie!" it was Casavir, I'd know that voice anywhere. I opened my eyes – I hadn't even realised they were closed – and suddenly became aware that his hands were clutching my face, his eyes boring into mine as he shouted to be heard above the din of the very building we were in collapsing around us. "Evie, you have to stay awake! Stay with me! We're out of spells, our potions are gone, so we have to get out of here by ourselves! Understand?" I tried to nod, but my chest heaved and I saw my own blood splatter on his cheek before I realised I'd coughed.

The part of me awake enough to appreciate sarcasm mused that I'd _never_ been more attractive.

It didn't seem to put him off. He pulled my arm around his shoulders and dragged me with him, my legs making an insincere effort to propel me along, even as my hand clutched at his breastplate like a lifeline. My leg felt like it was on fire, and I suspected that whatever had made the horrific wound in my side was _still_ there. I realised, for the second time today, that if nothing was done very, very soon, I was going to die. And then all of this would have been for naught, because even if the sword coast had been saved, I wouldn't be around to enjoy it. Guess I _was_ pretty selfish at heart.

There was something, though, that told me if I just held on to him, I'd be fine. I might not survive, but if this was to be our last battle, at least we would go down together.

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She was so tiny, so frail and broken that I had to trust my instincts that told me she was still breathing. There was no time to check. I knew I was wounded, but at least I could still walk. And while I lived, I wouldn't let her die. Not now, not ever. We were behind all the others as we tore through endless stone corridors, our progress blocked at every turn with boulders and shrapnel. To come this far, to be killed by a falling building. It was too cruel a fate to think possible.

We came through a collapsing doorway into a room larger than the others. There was a door further up ahead, but it too was blocked by fallen rubble.

"What're we waiting for?" Khelgar shouted, already hurling the rocks to one side in an effort to clear the path. The others joined him, and I moved Evelyn to the floor so I could see if there was anything I could do in these precious few seconds. What I saw did not fill me with hope. Aside from the endless catalogue of cuts and bruises littering her body, there was a long, deep gash from the right corner of her jaw down to below the neckline of her armour. But the sight of the wound in her side hit me like a punch in the gut. Twisted metal and armour was almost indistinguishable from the dark, mangled flesh and clotted blood. Suddenly, I was reminded of the last time I'd seen Shandra, and the wound in her chest that had been her undoing.

Not knowing what else to do, I unbuckled her breastplate and peeled it off slowly, careful not to disturb her injuries, and marvelled at how much smaller she was dressed in only the soft, padded undershirt that covered her upper body.

Shakingly, I checked her pulse at her neck, and almost cried out in joy when I realised her heart was still beating, and her chest was slowly rising and falling. Ammon's spell shook free some of the rocks blocking the door, and illuminated the room briefly. A flash of a reflection caught my eye, and I barely dared to hope it was what I thought it was until I scrambled over and fished it out of the wreckage. One, single healing potion. It wasn't enough, nowhere near, but it would have to do.

I told myself, as I uncorked it with my teeth and splashed some on the wound before I forced it between her lips, that this wasn't favouritism. She was the worst injured by far, having taken the brunt of the attacks, and unlike the others, she was on the brink of death.

I tried to remember my training and massaged her neck – avoiding the cuts – to encourage her to swallow, but her body was having none of it. She choked on the liquid and spat it back up, along with a significant amount of blood, her mouth hanging open as her eyes rolled back in her head and her body started to shake slightly. Cursing, I tried once more, only to be met with the same result. I took a quick swig myself, reasoning that I would be no good half-dead myself, and poured the rest on her wound, trying to dislodge the largest parts of shrapnel at the same time. I knew from experience how painful a potion direct to broken flesh was, but reasoned that she was either unconscious, or already in too much pain to care. The wound fizzed and steamed as the bleeding stopped and any infection was wiped clean. It was a messy job, but anything more substantial would have to wait for later.

The second the gap in the door was big enough to squeeze through, I hauled Evelyn to her feet and clutched her waist, willing Tyr to lend me strength for just a few minutes longer. Khelgar waited until we were on the other side before leaping through himself and scurrying along next to us. There _must_ be a way out, I reasoned. There just _had_ to be. There was no way we could have gone through all of that just to die in here. I refused to believe it.

After all I had said to her, my heart refused to let me believe it had been in vain. Once upon a time I would have been happy just to die for her. Now that I knew what I _could_ have, that wasn't enough. Now, I wanted to live for her.

-+-+-+-+-+-

They tore down the stone halls, some ways blocked off and others open, making the Illefarn ruins into a labyrinth, and, for some, a grave.

A thick slab of stone was lowering over a door, the only way out. Without thinking, Casavir left his precious cargo with the Construct, and took the door's weight on his shoulders, his armoured hands heaving at its edge even as it continued to bear down on him. The others ran through one by one, and it was then the Paladin realised that he wouldn't be able to get out from under the door, even if he wanted to. He felt a bone in his shoulder crack under the pressure, and with a guttural cry that made the veins on his forehead stand out like ridges, he pushed one last time, just long enough to let the last of them sprint through the opening, and felt his world go black as the stone slammed down on him and crushed his body.

Khelgar's curses echoed through the caverns even as he doubled back to help his friend. Neeshka started after him, her voice pleading. Both were silenced by the caving ceiling.

Zhjaeve was frail from battle, had little armour, and knew she was doomed from the moment she agreed to travel with the one she'd always referred to as the Kalach-Cha. She accepted her fate with no bitterness, even as the falling shards of the building took her life, and her final thought was how thankful she was to have been given this chance, to have banished the ancient enemy of her people. If she was to die, she had thought, she was glad it was in this way, and no other.

Sand knew when his time was up, but refused to accept that he would meet his end in such a hole as this. Even as the world closed in around him, he uttered a spell faster than ever before, and he was transformed.

Ammon, ever the author of his own destiny, used the last of his power to take himself from what would have been his final resting place. Loathe as he was to leave the others behind, he knew it would not be their last meeting.

Even the Construct's metal skeleton was no match for the falling stone. As it fell, it arched over its Gnomish master, shielding the tiny bard from certain death and giving him a final chance at life.

And what of the shard-bearer? The Kalach-Cha, the Knight-Captain, the young, brassy lass from West-Harbour? When the Construct fell, so did she. Her limp body flew through the air, and the impact with the ground would have extinguished her spark immediately had some unknown force not chosen that exact moment to spirit her away for some mysterious purpose. Fortune did have a way with timing.

At the Keep, the dead were being tallied, and the enemy were being rounded up and slaughtered. Amidst the confusion and the chaos that came with an unexpected victory, where grown men sank to their knees and praised the Gods that they lived to see another sunrise, those that had shaped this victory were all too aware of the costs. An old, Elvish ranger prayed to the Seldarine and begged for his foster-daughter's safe return. A sandy-haired member of the Nine cursed his lack of faith in Crossroad Keep, and praised the courage of its men and its Captain in particular. A second-in-command, often described as cold or joyless, rubbed the tears from her eyes as she thought of the feat that had been accomplished that day, and how proud she was to have been a part of it. A West Harbour native thought of his best friend, even as he had his broken arm set, and prayed she would come back in one piece.

From the very depths of the Keep, in defiance of all the bloodshed that had gone on that day, the healthy lungs of a newborn screamed out a greeting to the world.

**A.N.** Everyone loves a nice, cheesy ending. But that's not the end! Expect a good 10 or so more chapters taking us through MotB. As you may have noticed I like to twist the canon to my own purposes. So – who's alive and who's dead? I won't say much yet, but rest assured that Evelyn and Casavir will meet again within the next few chapters. Whether they're both alive or, for that matter, _tangible_, is another question altogether. I think you'll like what I've got in store for my poor, tortured couple.

Reviews make my typing speed double! Honestly!

Thanks for reading this far, guys :) You all rock!


	29. Chapter 29

**A.N.** The way the ending of NWN2 and the start of MotB was dealt with always felt like a massive cop-out to me. It pissed me off that you don't really get the opportunity to get angry about the fact that your fairytale ending was swiped away at the last second in favour of another random campaign, and that all the characters you'd spent ages building relationships with just got killed off like it didn't matter. But, well, I've never had much respect for cannon...

**Chapter 29**

It took me a while to realise I was conscious, and another while yet to realise what that meant.

I was alive.

My memories were still hazy and my head pounded like I'd fallen asleep in a barrel of 10-year-old whiskey, but I remembered my last thoughts being those of regret, of sadness that my final moments on this earth would be filled with pain and bloodshed. Not that my situation had improved much since I was knocked out however long ago. Every shallow breath I took burnt my lungs, and I still couldn't bring myself to open my eyes. I felt cold, but not like I was outside, more like the feeling of being in the Keep's basement on a brisk, winter night. _Everything_ ached. I didn't think I could _eat_ the amount I wanted to vomit. I was on my front, with my cheek pressed against something hold and hard. Stone, I thought.

Judging from my body's protest at the slightest movement, I imagined I must have been there for some time. Either that, or I'd been beaten to a bloody pulp and not given a chance to recover. I supposed _both_ wouldn't have been out of the question, given my luck.

With a rush, I remembered what I'd been doing. The King of Shadows had fallen, and we'd had to get out of the Illefarn ruins in Merdelain. I'd limped, trying to ignore the pain, until I'd known I couldn't stay awake any longer, and I'd collapsed...

Casavir! He'd been helping me escape, and he must have caught me when I fell. Did that mean he was here? In whatever personal Hell I'd conjured up for myself?

I tried to speak, to call his name, but no sound came out except a dull, scratchy croak. He wouldn't have just left me like this, so either he was injured himself, or I was lost. Or...

Or he was dead.

I refused to believe it. Paladins didn't lie, and if _I'd_ made it out alive, then he _must_ have done. The odds that one or both of us could have survived that encounter were too small to be worth calculating. But then, Fortune didn't much care for her uptight sister, Probability. Such was life. At least it was for me. I thought at the very least I'd wake up cosy in an infirmary bed, with one or two of my companions by my side, ready to announce my miraculous recovery to the masses, who would then thank me for giving up the last few years of my life and probably several pints of blood just so they could continue to live another day. And then I would kiss my knight – after I'd had a wash, of course – and tell him what was in my heart, and we'd go to Neverwinter, where—

I stopped myself. Such thoughts did nothing but heighten the deep sense of emptiness I felt burrowing within my chest.

I braced my hands against the stone and tried to push myself off, my lungs gasping in protest at the sudden movement, and the release of pressure was almost painful as I peeled my chest from the ground. I wasn't wearing my armour. Instead, I had on a loose tunic that I didn't think was mine, and the same breeches I'd found on my floor on that dreamy morning when I'd woken up in his arms. The thought would have made me smile, had my stomach not chosen that moment to retch up its contents. My stomach rippled painfully, and burning liquid forced its way up my throat as my eyes opened in shock. There was nothing solid for me to vomit, but apparently my body didn't care. I couldn't remember the last time I ate. Maybe that was why I felt so lightheaded?

I lifted my head and looked around the room. I was in a small, circular chamber, with earthen walls and a stone floor painted in glyphs and symbols, illuminated by the same unearthly light that pulsed through the walls. They looked Illefarn, though seeing as my knowledge of ancient Faerûnian civilizations was based entirely on necessity, that wasn't saying much. But, it let me tell myself the comforting lie that I was probably still in Meredelain where I'd fallen, despite all evidence to the contrary. Maybe I'd been thrown here by an explosion, or the floor caving in? That wouldn't explain why my armour had gone, where this tunic came from, or why my chest felt like it had been hacked open with a rusty dagger, but it was a way to rationalise the situation and stall the panic that was brewing in my plundered stomach.

I tried to push myself up further but was forced back down as though there were ropes holding me in place. I grit my teeth. If I'd fought tooth and nail through an army of undead just to end up a _prisoner_, I wasn't sure what I'd do. My stomach had calmed, though my chest was still cramping up as I lay back down on the rough, rune-scarred stone to catch my breath. I felt pathetic and weak, limp as a wet leaf and sweating like I had a fever.

Someone better have a good explanation for this.

"I'm here," said a light, feminine voice somewhere to my right, "Lie still."

Well, I was never one for doing what I was told. I heaved against my invisible bonds once again, and felt the pain coursing through my chest as I managed to roll myself over.

"I said lie _still!"_ the voice came again, its owner rushing closer and crouching next to me, "Or you'll bleed to death. Here, I have a bandage."

I lifted my weary eyes to the stranger's face, and took in her bald head covered in tattoos, the concerned slant to her eyes, and the vibrant red of her robes.

"Th...the hell're you?" I croaked, my voice and my limbs rusty from lack of use. The woman frowned and performed some complex dance with her hands. There was a moment, and somehow I knew the bonds keeping me to the ground were gone. Quickly and clinically she unbuttoned the front of my tunic but kept my breasts covered, sucking her breath in through her teeth as she looked at me.

"My name is Safiya, and you're lucky I came when I did." Working dextrously, she fashioned a rough bandage over the wound I apparently had, but hadn't seen yet. "This stitching is hopeless...I've seen better work on golems. We can get you fixed up when we're out of here."

"St...stitching?" I groaned, lifting my fingers to feel the wound, but she pushed back my hands and looked at me sternly.

"Yes, stitching, most likely to hold together that horrific _gash_ you've got running down your chest." Her voice was annoyed, but I didn't care. I felt after the night I'd had, I deserved a few answers. The significance of the wound caused dread to ripple up to my throat, and suddenly I knew the shard in my chest was gone. That was the strange, empty feeling I'd had since I'd woken, and that was why my ribs were burning so intensely. I looked up into Safiya's eyes. They were sincere enough, but I didn't want to trust her with the details yet.

"But...after the battle," I coughed, still not used to speaking, "I don't remember...anything. If I got stitched up...how come...I still hurt so bad? And...who the hell...left me...here?"

"You don't know?" She sounded puzzled, which worried me. "Surely if someone trapped you here, cut you open, then you would know..." she trailed off as I turned and pushed myself off the ground and onto my feet, where I wobbled for a moment before managing to balance shakily. My hair was matted against my scalp with dried blood and sweat. Safiya stood to face me, barely an inch or two shorter than I was. And then I noticed I wasn't wearing any shoes, and that the front of my tunic still hung limply between my breasts. I buttoned it back up with stiff fingers. "But you _don't_ know, do you? Then I can understand your confusion, I—I mean, it must be very disorienting." I barked a short, angry laugh as I tested out my tender limbs.

"You could...say that." My voice was still ragged, but at least my body was waking up. "Now...if you don't know...who did this...could you at least...be kind enough...to tell me _where_ I am?" Baby steps, I thought. I'd figure out where I was first, and then I'd figure out how to get back to the Keep, and _then_ I'd think about who Safiya was or how she found me or how I got here. That was the way...

"We're in a barrow, deep beneath the soil of Rasheman," she replied calmly. The breath caught in my throat and I felt like I'd been punched in the gut.

"Ra....Rasheman?" I whispered, racking my brains for a handy map of Faerûn. "But that's...that's _leagues_ from the...the Sword Coast! It doesn't...doesn't make any sense..."

"Look, I don't know _how_ you got here," Safiya started again, her eyes pleading though her tone was level, "but I'm here to take you to someone who might. She can give us _both_ some answers if you'll just come with me. For the moment haste is all that matters. We have to get out of here before the spirits awaken."

"Where's Casavir?" I demanded, praying she'd give me an answer.

"Who?" My heart sank. "Look, I wasn't even told your _name_, let alone anything about how you got here or who you were with."

"Then...what...what did they tell you?"

"There isn't _time_!" she snapped. Her voice wasn't well suited to anger, and she just ended up sounding frustrated, "We have to get out of here, and we have to do it _now!_ Please, you have to trust me."

"_Trust_ you?" I croaked incredulously, "I've been beaten, cut, and sewn back up....dumped in a cave in the middle of _nowhere_, and...and you're telling me to trust the first person that comes along? Aren't you a Red Wizard?" I asked finally, remembering why her attire had struck me in the first place. She bristled at my question, and lifted her head proudly.

"Yes, I am, but you would do well to remember that not all of us are alike," Her eyes narrowed, and it was _then_ that I remembered why Red Wizards were feared, "More to the point, if I'd meant you harm, I assure you we wouldn't be having this conversation. I don't know why I was asked to find you, just that you'd be here, you'd be hurt, and you'd want answers. If you _still_ want to spit on the only help you'll get in this Barrow, I'll warn you now that the spirits won't let you go without a fight." I could tell she was getting irritated, but I didn't much care. I'd bet good money that _she_ hadn't just been through two years of constant fighting only to just be eviscerated and left in a pit, with all hope of a bright, peaceful future ripped from her grasp.

"But...but..." I found that I didn't know what to say. I was so overwhealmed with questions I wanted to ask her that I couldn't speak. Rebelling against my instinct to shun her help and find my own way out, I decided to take what she said at face value. When we got out of here, when I was patched up enough to think straight, then maybe I could demand some answers. Until then, I decided, I'd let her lead on. "Fine," I said at last, "I'll go with you...at least 'til we're out of here."

"Then that's all I ask," she replied. Her voice, and her words, reminded me instantly of Shandra, and I felt a jolt in my heart for the woman I'd let die. She fished into a pouch at her belt and pulled out a thin flask filled with a dark green liquid. "Drink this. It'll help."

I greedily uncorked and gulped down the healing potion, biting back a moan of pleasure as the aches and pains were washed away. It couldn't replace natural sleep, or indeed the months of rest I'd promised myself once the King of Shadows was dead, but it was something.

"Here," Safiya spoke suddenly, producing a short blade from her belt. "It's not much, but it's better than nothing. I don't have any armour, I'm afraid, but my spells can protect you to an extent." I took the blade gratefully, noticing that it was well balanced and razor sharp, despite its size.

"Thank you," I said quietly, pushing aside the fog that crowded my head and trying to ignore the hunger that gnawed at my belly. "Don't suppose you've got any bread in that pouch of yours, do you?" She shook her head.

"Only spell components. We'll see about some food when we get to the playhouse." Now _that_ was a new development – what playhouse? I warred between wanting to find out, and not having much will to speak or ask questions. The latter won, and, with a nod, I let her lead on in relative silence.

And then, Kaji came out, and my headache fell upon me all over again.

-+-+-+-+-+-

"And what the _hell_ was that?" I screamed, turning to Safiya with my eyes aflame. The memory of what I'd done to that spirit wolf played itself back to me. I'd lost control of myself, I'd let that _thing_ take over, and I could feel what I'd done. I'd consumed her soul like it was a morsel of food, and I hated my body for betraying me in such a hideous way. "What did I do to her? What _was_ that thing?"

"I don't know!" She snapped back, bristling, "It didn't look like a spell or a divine invocation. There was something...in you..."

"What aren't you telling me?" I demanded. I didn't know if she had any answers or not, but at this point I'd take a comforting lie over the confused, conflicting feelings warring in my mind. If I concentrated I could almost feel Nakata's final thoughts bouncing around my head.

"I don't know!" She replied, annunciating her words carefully. "Whatever you did, you destroyed that spirit before it had a chance to destroy you, and you've healed whatever wounds you had left, so I'd say you should count yourself lucky." I'd barely noticed that my wounds had gone, and it filled me with even more disgust.

"I just sucked that spirit's soul out." I forced myself to remain calm. "And I don't know how I did it."

"Neither do I," Safiya assured me, "but Lienna will. And when we see her we'll get some answers, not before."

Suddenly, a great wave of homesickness washed over me. I felt tears pricking at my eyes, and, more than anything, I wanted Casavir to appear from around the next corner and tell me it was all some horrible dream, and he was here to escort me home. I didn't care about Lienna or Safiya or any of these new, strange people who'd somehow put me in this situation. I just...I just wanted the idealistic little fantasy I'd created for myself to come true. I gritted my teeth and moved towards the small hole in the wall leading upwards and, hopefully, out of this hellish place.

-+-+-+-+-+-

After what felt like an eternity, Okku's spirit and those of his companions had been dispersed. The two of us – three if Kaji counted – fled from the barrow and broke into the patch of sunlight through the canopy of trees all around. I braced myself against the sudden light and squinted until my eyes adjusted. My breath was still shallow, and my lungs ached. The loss of the shard within me coupled with the hunger I couldn't identify had become a palpable force, and I felt sick to my stomach. After the encounter with Nakata, the fight with Okku and the memory of his words to me, I could be sure of precisely one thing – I wasn't going to stick around and wait for things to go from bad to worse.

"Mulsantir is not far from here," Safiya started before I had a chance to speak. "How are you feeling? I have another potion in my bag if you need it,"

"How d'you think I feel?" I replied, more aggressively than I'd meant, "I've been taken from my home only to have the shard in my chest stolen by someone who I'm sure – just like you – only meant well, and dumped in a stinking barrow full of rabid ghosts! On top of that, I'm either possessed or have some kind of disease that _eats_ _spirits _like a gods-damned _vampire!_ Now you'll excuse me if I don't feel like heading off with you when you've only given me more questions than answers."

"Please, just listen—"

"No, _you_ listen, Safiya, I'm _sure_ you're a real delight to be around, I'm sure whoever did this to me and whoever got you to find me is _very_ important, and I'm sure they've got a whole list of _real_ interesting reasons why they had to _use_ me like they did, but _fuck_ this! I'm going home! I don't care if there's some gods-damned village with a kobold infestation or some evil warlord or any other reason to keep me around, I'm _done_ with this! I'm _done_ with being some fuckin' heroine who gets all the work and none'a the rewards!"

"You don't understand," she started again, her eyes narrowing. I had a feeling she wasn't used to begging, but I was far beyond caring.

"I understand _perfectly_, I just _don't care_!" I cried, my voice reaching a hysterical pitch, "I've _done_ all this! I fought the big, bad enemy, and I _won!_ I should be back in my Keep _right now_, reaping the benefits of being a fuckin' Knight-Captain of Neverwinter who's just pulled off an impossible victory! I don't _care_ what fate thinks I should do. I'm not just gonna lie back and take it, I'm getting my happily-ever-fuckin'-after whether the gods like it or not!" With these final words I turned on my heel and stalked off between the trees in the direction of the setting sun.

"Are you _insane_? You can't just leave!"

"_Watch_ me!" I shot back over my shoulder.

"You don't even know the way," she said levelly, daring me to object.

"Then I'll walk until I hit the sea, and I'll figure it out from there."

"But...but it's _months_ of travel to Neverwinter!"

"Lucky for me I haven't got some stupid, gods-damned _quest_ to go on, ain't it?" I knew I was being childish, but I didn't care. I felt entitled to something beyond being dropped in the middle of another _epic_ adventure.

"You'll die before you get there! What you did to Nakata...it'll happen again."

_That _made me stop in my tracks. I turned to face her, noting that she'd barely advanced a few steps. Her chin was still lifted defiantly.

"What do you know about that?" I asked neutrally.

"Nothing, but Lienna _will_. She's an associate of my mother. I've never met her, never even heard of her until I was tasked to bring you to her." Some of the tension leaked from her body, but I could see she was forcing herself to remain calm. She was probably wondering what in the hells she'd done to deserve this. Funnily enough, I was thinking the same thing. "I want answers too, Evelyn. Whoever Lienna is, we'll soon find out what she knows. Even if you don't care, you won't make it more than a few leagues in your condition. Look, we'll go to Mulsantir. There you can get some rest and talk to Lienna. After that, I don't care what you do. If you still want to go home, you can get a horse or send a message. Just...please, you _must_ know it's ridiculous for you to try to go all the way to Neverwinter like this!"

Of course I knew it was ridiculous. I just wanted to be home so badly I didn't care how I got there. Her words were too reasonable to argue with, though, and I found myself starting to walk back towards her even before I'd made my mind up.

"Fine," I muttered tersely as I reached her, "I'll go to Mulsantir with you."

Safiya nodded once, apparently relieved, and nodded to her right.

"It's about an hour's march this way. I'll take you to Lienna the moment we arrive."

I couldn't help but think that she'd be glad to be rid of me. I didn't blame her, but I didn't blame myself either. I _tried_ not to blame the damn fools who'd kidnapped me and cut me up, and instead thought of how utterly marvellous a bath would be right about now. Yes, overriding my inner adolescent and thinking of what would _actually_ be doable had been a good idea. As I watched Safiya walking ahead of me, her lips thin and pressed together, I almost felt bad about the fact that I'd be leaving her too soon to make up for the unruly little child I'd been since I'd awoken. Because Casavir would have wanted me to, I decided to apologise, but not until she'd delivered on her promise. And then, I'd be clean, healed, and, more importantly, going _home_.

-+-+-+-+-+-

_Elsewhere…_

"So," she said, drawing up the chair by the bed and sitting down with a sigh, "still asleep, I see."

The midday winter sun streaming through the window gave the room a cold, but cheery glow. The figure lay prone on the bed, the same one he'd occupied for over a year, but hadn't moved from for almost two weeks.

"It's very rude of you, y'know, just listening and never answerin'," she continued slowly, "after all, you must get almost twenty people through here every day, checkin' up on you. Guess they must really like you 'round here."

She sighed again, hoping that this time he'd take the hint and open his eyes.

"You better wake up. She'll be pissed if she comes back just to find out you've been sleepin' this whole time." She paused, biting her lip. "If she ever does come back. They gave up the search yesterday, y'know. I figure that should be enough to get you t' wake up. They must've turned over every stone in that place. Bevil and Daeghun. Never much liked Daeghun m'self, but I guess I didn't know him like she did."

There was silence in the small, simple room. The woman, with her long, golden blonde hair and light, slate-coloured eyes allowed her gaze to run over his form, the sheets pulled up to his waist, the bandages encasing his torso, up to his head which was held in place with a cast. He was still ridiculously handsome, even with a number of healing gashes and bruises marring his features.

"I can see why she likes you. Hells, if she weren't my best friend I might have designs on you m'self," she smirked, "I bet you'd make one hell of a father." She leaned in, her face close to his, and whispered conspiratorially, "Maybe, if you never wake up, I'll make up some story and tell Jakob you were his daddy. Bet he'd be proud to have a man like you for his pa, 'stead of some swamp-born coward who couldn't stick around more'n a week." She shook her head, leaning back in her chair and sighing as she covered her still-sore belly with her hands. "Nah, she'd kill me if I did. Don't matter that she's probably dead, she'd find a way. Jus' like I'm sure she'll find her way back home. Back to you, back to me, hells, I don't care, long as she gets back," her voice broke on the last few words, and she bit her lip as a tear rolled down her cheek.

"It ain't fair," she continued, blinking quickly, "it ain't fair that she fought so hard just to die like this. She deserves more. So do you. I really, really hope you'll wake up, because maybe then I'll have someone to talk to who really understands other than Bevil. Her other companions, they cared about her, I know, but it ain't the same. I've known her all my life, and I know she loves you, so maybe you'll understand that they can't just…" she swallowed a sob, "…can't just give her some big ceremony, pull up a monument, and forget all about her. They can't."

She leaned in again, finding his hand with hers and clutching it tightly.

"I know I barely even know you, but she's gone, Bevil's away, and my baby's too young to be decent conversation, so…"

Her last words were raw and pleading.

"Please, please wake up."

His chest rose and fell with deep, slow breaths, ignoring her entirely.

Silence fell upon the room once more.

**A.N**. You didn't think I'd let Obsidian get away with _that_, did you? Next chapter: The plot thickens in Mulsantir, and Katriona (boo, hiss) makes an appearance...

Oh, and while you're here, why not leave a little note telling me you'd like the next chapter before 2010? It'll help, I promise ;)


	30. Chapter 30

**A.N.** I'm sorry there's so much game dialogue in this chapter. There's just a lot of scenes to get through, and I promise the next chapter will be more eventful. For those of you who haven't' played or don't remember, just assume anything you like is my own work, and anything you don't is just necessary game dialogue. We'll all be much happier that way :D

**Oh yeah, and I've got a new portrait of Evelyn up to go with this part of the story. Check out my deviantart page – there's a link from my profile.**

**Chapter 30**

The gates of Mulsantir loomed before us, and I was infinitely grateful. The silence between Safiya and I was easier to bear now that I'd taken a moment to apologise to her. In truth, I probably wouldn't have if my body hadn't decided that enough was enough, and flatly refused to propel me forward before I'd taken a rest. She'd been understanding, if still a little tense after my outburst, and had let me rest my aching – and still bare – feet for a few moments. It was then that I'd told her I was sorry she'd been the one to find me, that it was nothing personal, and that I would have done the same to anyone in her position who I hadn't recognised. I could tell she was still annoyed even though she did a good job of hiding it, but it seemed to be directed more at our situation than at me. I asked her to try and understand how I felt. I told her a little of the events leading up to my losing unconsciousness in Merdelain, leaving out details like Casavir and the Blade of Gith for good measure, and she remained as baffled as _I_ was about why I was there and why I was important.

In a gesture of goodwill she'd helped me wind some of her thicker bandages around my feet. They were hardly a substitute for the hardy – and very _expensive_, I might add – walking boots that had somehow gone missing, but they went some way towards helping me feel human again. Predictably, my armour was also nowhere to be found, but I'd salvaged a too-big breastplate from the ruins beneath the Barrow. And then, there was the small matter of my hair. I'd shaken it free from the sticky, filthy mass it had turned into at the back of my head, and realised that _someone_ had cut a good six or seven inches from the left side, leaving the right strangely untouched. The tips were caked in dried blood, and the cut had been ragged and uneven. Grumbling something about just having got it the way I liked it, I bundled my hair up into a messy bun and decided to deal with it later. I almost hoped Lienna had no idea who had done all this to me. At least that way I could spare myself the necessity of hunting them down and repaying the great debt of pain I owed them.

I had a nagging feeling at the back of my mind that, no matter what I was told, this wouldn't be a simple matter of getting a horse from Mulsantir and riding West to my home. It would be one thing if the shard was just missing. At this point in my weary life, I couldn't care less about what someone wanted with the shard of silver that had started this whole thing, and I'd happily leave it behind for some other starry-eyed adventurer to deal with. It was just this _hunger_ inside me that had my heart gripped with worry. I truly hoped it was just the fact that I hadn't eaten in a while, but what I'd done to Nakata assured me otherwise. It was something I knew I'd have to deal with eventually. I just prayed to whichever deities paid attention to this little corner of the world that Lienna had all the answers, and that I'd be on my way home by the morrow.

Kaji, Safiya's strange, misshapen little familiar, chattered away heedless of the two of us as we trudged towards Mulsantir's gates, our shadows long in the setting sun. Occasionally she'd answer him, but for my part I remained silent. Talking was too difficult, and thinking was worse still, so I concentrated on putting one filthy, cut-up foot in front of the other, and marching until we reached the walls.

Just off the well-worn path, a chubby merchant stood by his wagon which missed a wheel. Two other men were bent over the wheel in question, replacing the spokes and speaking in low, rumbling voices. The merchant brightened as he saw us approach, Safiya now wearing a dark brown robe with a hood pulled down to her brow. He looked _exactly_ like Naethen, the loud and often ignorant peddler who passed through the Mere every season, and though on closer inspection both his skin and hair were darker, and his eyebrows much bushier, I still prayed he wouldn't crush me with a bear hug and ask me how my father was doing these days. I wasn't in the mood to be good-humoured.

"Ah, a wet and gloomy Mulsantir evening to you, my friends!" he greeted in the same booming voice of merchants everywhere. Idly, I wondered if there was some sort of code governing the appearance and manner of travelling traders around Faerûn... "You did not, perchance, encounter an army of angry spirits on the road?"

"Spirits?" I replied, my voice low and throaty from the long walk, "I take it that sort of thing is common, here?" I knew precisely nothing about Rasheman, save for the fact that its climate was as temperamental as its people, and that it was ruled by Witches. I always thought it was one of those exciting, far-off places you wouldn't mind visiting one day, but wouldn't want to be stuck in for too long. Especially, I mused, if you were stuck there after being cut open and dropped in a ditch. I'd assumed the spirits I'd encountered so far were only there because, well, I was essentially in a graveyard, but for all I knew there was a wolf-spirit running the local tavern. Gods, I hoped they had a decent local tavern.

"Only when my livelihood is stuck in a ditch outside the city wall, I assure you." He jerked his head towards his broken wagon, "To be truthful, I have no idea. This is a hard country, unkind to foreigners, and I try to keep myself behind as many walls as I can, hence why I'm trying to get into Mulsantir before nightfall."

"Foreigners," I repeated dully.

"Aye, like yourself. Or did you not think it was obvious? You should watch yourself, lass. Not all within these walls are kind as old Shelvedar, here," he said with a wink, pointing a thumb at himself as if I didn't get the reference.

"Don't worry, I won't stay long," I assured both him and myself.

"Perhaps it is good you do not tarry. With the way those spirits were kicking up a fuss I imagine Mulsantir won't be the safest place soon enough. What you here for, then? Business, is it?"

"Aye, and I'll leave it at that." Before he could respond, I spoke again, "you don't happen to sell food, do you? Or shoes? Either would be helpful." His eyes moved from my sunken cheekbones to my muddy, bandaged feet, to my well-dressed companion, who had yet to say a word.

"'Fraid not, my good lady," he muttered, nodding to the bags of trinkets and tools that had been unloaded from the cart. I thanked him anyway and made to move past, but something, likely blind curiosity, made me stop mid-stride and turn back to him.

"You don't, by any chance, know a merchant of the Sword Coast by the name of Naethen Smithson? Hails from Fairwilde?"

"Ah! I see you've met my cousin!" I nodded wearily and, before he could elaborate, started towards the gates once more, Safiya in tow. Of _course_ they'd be related. No doubt the instant I walked into Mulsantir I'd bump into an old lover or friend or enemy. Fate had a special way of toying with me that I was beginning to find tiresome.

"A strange coincidence, don't you think?" Safiya asked neutrally.

"I don't believe in coincidences anymore..." I replied in a dejected tone. And then, I thought about seeing Naethen again and telling him of the run-in with his cousin, and it lifted my heart to think that one day, hopefully soon, I _would_ be sitting in a tavern free to discuss all this insanity at my leisure, with my dearest friends by my side. With a jolt, I realised that Kendra would have had her baby by now. I sent a silent prayer for its health and her happiness. That was only _another_ reason why I was so annoyed to be here. She didn't really know anyone at the Keep except for Bevil, and I'd told her I'd be there for her when the baby came.

'_All in good time_,'I told myself.

"That's the theatre, just up ahead," Safiya pointed at a large, colourful building that looked like it hadn't been fixed up in a while. It smelt faintly of...something. I couldn't quite place it. Turpentine mixed with dust mixed with some special, theatrical ingredient that stopped it from being unpleasant. It brought back memories of the troupes that came through the Mere and performed in exchange for food and lodgings. Oh, some food would be _wonderful_ right about now...

"And Lienna will be there?" I wondered aloud, moving to the dark red double doors.

"She should be. I don't know what she looks like or anything, but one of the actors should know where we can find her."

I murmured in agreement as I pushed the doors open, and sighed at the scene before me. It could _never_ just be _simple_ for once. A number of snarling, slobbering gnolls threatened a group of what I assumed were actors, while two red wizards stood on the stage and oversaw the whole scenario. As we entered the older of the two turned in surprise and recoiled when Safiya slid her hood back, baring her teeth.

"The daughter of Nefris _here_? I should have known those two homunculi were your handiwork!" He sneered, his accent reminding me strangely of Qara's. Safiya had told me a little of her mother and the academy, though I'd found it hard to focus long enough to take it all in. If the one person who might have known what was happening to me had been hurt in some stupid power struggle, heads would roll. I didn't have _time_ for this.

"You!" Safiya narrowed her eyes, "What are _you_ doing here? And what did you do to Ipsit and Sefi?"

"We caught them nosing around the theatre. The gnolls toyed with them for a while, before dismembering them... your primitive little creations are no more." His voice was nasal and extremely annoying. It was, in fact, how I always imagined a Red Wizard would speak. Safiya had done some work towards demolishing the stereotype I'd built up in my head, but with the arrival of these two idiots that could change.

"A friend of yours?" I muttered grimly.

"Hardly," she spat, "He's one of the necromancy students. I don't cavort with the fledgling graverobbers," More quietly, she continued "When I left to find you, my mother was busy taking care of some... upstart wizards at the academy. No doubt, he's another pawn in this ridiculous coup..." At least she agreed with me that it _was_ ridiculous. Safiya didn't seem the self-absorbed type – which was lucky, because I definitely _was_ – but the worry that she'd abandon me in this strange and hostile land the second a problem of her own arose was still a real one. She was the closest thing I had to an ally in this place, though hopefully once we found Lienna, I could say my farewells pretty quickly.

"Listen up!" I snarled, pointing my short blade at him, "I _really_ don't have time for you _or_ your gods-damned rebellion. If you _want_ I can spend a few minutes showin' you why I'm feared in the West, but I don't think you'll want to waste my time." It was a little over-dramatic, sure, but it seemed to be working. He broke eye-contact and turned to his companion uncertainly.

"I - I mean - we...uh...we were just following orders! He wanted Lienna dead - said it was part of the plan to overthrow Headmistress Nefris!"

"He?" I repeated, my voice low and dangerous, "who're you talkin' about?"

"It...uh...it was Araman."

"Araman?" Safiya cried, stepping towards him. He turned to her and apparently gained some of his bravado.

"Surely you must have _known_, Safiya," he taunted, "Or was your mother so _blind_ that she never—"

"Shut up!" I snapped, using the fact that I still looked and _felt_ feral as a wild dog to my advantage as I poured all of the rage I felt into my words, "Even if you fools ain't afraid of me – and you _should_ be – I guess you'll already know Safiya's a better spell-slinger than the two 'a you put_ together_. And with the mood we're in, no doubt the first thing she'd throw at you wouldn't leave you lookin' too healthy," I grinned, making sure to show off my extra long canines.

"Have you ever seen a man with his stomach ravaged by disintegrating magic?" Safiya asked dangerously, catching on to my ploy, "You'd be surprised to see how long he can live, writhing in pain, as his innards slowly ooze out..." The two men visibly paled.

"Piss off now, and we'll forget you were ever here," I added helpfully. They looked at one another, and seemed to come to a conclusion. Not _that_ stupid, then...

"I'm not throwing my life away for someone else's vendetta," the elder of the two said, gesturing for the gnolls to stand down. They trotted over to their masters reluctantly, their eyes still alight with nervous energy.

"They others can deal with them," the younger added. Safiya said nothing as they fled the room, but I could see she was itching for a fight. If there truly _were_ others, she might well get her wish.

"A more timely entrance I've never seen," breathed the russet-haired dwarf huddling with the others. She broke away from them and shuffled over to us, clasping her hands together. "Lienna, she told us to expect you, though she said nothing of Red Wizards. I imagine if you hadn't come when you did...well, I'd not be walking and talking, for a start."

"Were there others?" Safiya asked quickly.

"A few, yes. They followed Lienna into the back rooms."

"Then we can't waste any more time," I replied, moving towards the stage.

"Wait!" I turned back, raising my eyebrows, "Lienna is no simple theatre matron. She has a secret – a shadow door that leads to a...a _reflection_ of the Veil." It took me a moment to work out that 'the Veil' was the name of the theatre. "If she was being chased she would have fled through the shadow door, I'm sure of it."

She shuffled towards me and extended a small hand. Clutched in it was a stone, black as coal. I'd seen it's like when we fought the shadows in Meredelain. And here I thought I'd seen enough shadows to last me a lifetime...

"This stone will open the shadow door for you. The Wizards will have followed her, so there isn't much time." I nodded and hurried to the stage door, Safiya in tow. We moved through the random debris that seemed to accumulate in every theatre throughout the realms, careful to watch for any traps the wizards left us. A porcelain mask lay broken in front of an open door leading to a room that had been dishevelled and ransacked. Grasping the wardstone and waiting for a reaction, I stepped into the room, my eyes flickering from side to side, hoping to catch a glimpse of some shadowy irregularity to point the way forward.

Suddenly, Safiya gasped in shock. I whirled around and searched for an enemy, but found none. Instead, I saw, she was grasping at her scalp, the hood of her robe draped about her shoulders, and whispering sharply to...who?

"What? No! I told you...not...not now! I--"

"Safiya?" I prompted, moving closer and hunching so I could see her face. It was contorted in pain, her eyes squeezed shut and her teeth clenched tightly together.

"There's this...this _ringing_ in my ears," she spat, her breath quick and sharp, "my...my skin is burning, it...what? No! No, please don't!" Suddenly her head snapped up and her eyes flew open to meet mine. If what I knew of her didn't completely contradict it, I'd say she looked scared.

"Don't?" I asked carefully, wondering just what _kind_ of crazy this woman was.

"I...uh...I thought you were going to try and help me," she lied quickly. It was the kind of lie I'd found myself telling many a time, mostly to save face, and so I let it pass. "And, well, I was just saying, you needn't bother. I..." she swallowed heavily, closing her eyes and taking a deep, long breath, "I think the pain is going. I'll be fine."

"You're sure?" I knew she'd say yes, if she was anything like me, but contrary to my feelings when I'd woken up earlier in that dank, long-forgotten pit in the earth, I _did_ care whether or not the woman in front of me lived or died.

"I'll explain later," she insisted, moving past me and squaring her shoulders as she approached the corner of the room, where the portal flared into life. I said nothing more, just wanting this whole nightmare to be over with.

A strange twisting in my stomach, the breath sucked from my lungs, colour drained from my vision, and I found myself in the shadow plane. I stared grimly at the monochrome, shadowy room around me, noticing how several little things were different somehow. The knot in my gut grew tighter. I'd been here before...

"Through here," Safiya whispered sharply, bringing up her staff and edging towards the door. I drew my blade from my too-big belt and threw open the door in one swift movement. There was no one in the hall beyond, and it was sparse except for the large, simple table in its centre, shackles inexpertly attached to the sides. Dried blood had drenched its surface, and ran through the cracks and off the edges, before it pooled on the ground below. There was a matted mass of hair crumpled on the ground near the far side of the table. The room reeked of pain, fear, and the infirmary after battle. There was a coppery tang to the air that made me swallow heavily.

Some unknown force drew me to the table. Morbid curiosity perhaps, or that growing dread in my gut, the strange certainty that this place, this _table..._

I touched it.

Pain erupted in my chest, some crazed _thing_ inside me twisting and writhing like the shadows in this room. My ears were ringing, filled with noise and...and a _screaming_ I knew at once was coming from _me._ A woman's voice, perhaps two, rose above the din overtaking my senses. They spoke, but the slicing in my chest didn't let me concentrate on their words. Suddenly I was no longer standing, I was strapped down, staring up frantically at a bright light above, where two heads entered my vision spoke to each other, their faces so similar, so familiar. My ankles burnt. My wrists were cut up but tied down. Agony wracked my body as I tried to struggle. They were holding me down and talking louder now, more excitedly. My vision blurred, my eyes rolling in the back of my head. I felt the wet tears coursing down my cheeks, mingling with the blood in my mouth that I gurgled out as I tried to scream. I could hear their voices.

'_She's worse than we thought'_ one hissed through the shadows clouding my vision.

'_She is alive, unlike her friends'_ the other replied in the same voice.

'_Harvest it quickly, while she still breathes,"_ their voices trailed off, muffled by the shadows, the blocked-out memory, the sound of suffering torn from my very own throat. I felt one of their hands tearing open the front of my shirt, and the pain came anew as the cuts that had clotted to the material were ripped open once more. The fevered sweat covering my body cooled as the breeze hit my naked chest. A hand settled between my breasts, pushed down hard, and between her fingers I felt a razor-sharp blade settle onto my skin. She said something to her red-robed companion and then my thoughts exploded with the sounds of my own tortured cries as the blade pressed onto my flesh cut into my skin, ripping down to my belly. Her bare hands tore the folds of my skin apart, moving deeper, searching, all the while her face a grim mask of concentration. My vision blurred, filled with angry, disbelieving tears, my arms and legs, numb with pain, tore at the restraints as I screamed incoherently at my captors.

Her arms were covered to the elbow in my own dark, thick blood, both their faces splattered with red even as the red-robed woman chanted yet another spell to prolong the wretched mockery of a life they'd left me with. She reached below my line of vision, into my chest, and her eyes gazed into mine with a crazed, single-minded intensity as she pulled out a glittering shard, just like the ones I'd searched for what felt like a lifetime ago...

'_For love_,' her phantom of a voice told me. I felt my own, shaking lips mimicking her words, my mind uncomprehending what my eyes were seeing and my body feeling.

I felt a long, thick needle piercing my skin as a thread drew the ragged folds of my flesh together in unskilled stitches, the healing magic that still flowed pushing the sweet release of death ever further from me. My coarse voice could only spit out angry whispers of defiance as the energy fled from my limbs and the dull throb of pain echoed through my body.

'_It's stuck, look,'_ I heard one of them mutter.

'_I'll cut it, give me the knife,'_ And then I felt my head being turned to one side and felt the thick, matted clumps of my own hair fall past my neck as it was sheared off.

'_It will be here soon. We must get her out of here,_' there was fear in her voice. I felt myself trying to tell them how they should fear _me_ even more, for I would kill them when I found them, but all that came out was a strangled gurgle, even as my bonds were loosened. The black shapes lurking behind my captors lifted me from the table, carried me to the open door, and bore me aloft into darkness, where my eyes closed and the inky blackness of sleep fell upon me, even as I felt a dark, _foul_ presence stir within me...

I opened my eyes with a gasp, and found myself hunched over the table in the dark world of the shadow Veil. Safiya was crouched next to me, her eyes searching mine. My breath was thick and ragged, and my heart pounded with the all too vivid memory.

"You were screaming," Safiya said quietly as she stood, offering me a hand. I took it and pulled myself up, stumbling further away from the table. "Did you have a vision?"

"It was...it was a memory," I rasped as I caught my breath. "Someone...two of them...they strapped me to this very table...and they...they..." I didn't know how to vocalise all the things they'd done to me. The memory was all too new, too fresh. My tortured mind would take some time to sort through it all.

"In the Plane of Shadow, sometimes memories are closer to the surface of the mind. Perhaps being in this place, or even touching the table, made you remember something you'd...suppressed," she explained carefully. Mercifully, she didn't ask what I'd seen. I wasn't sure when I'd be ready to face up to it myself, let alone tell someone else about it.

'_She is alive, unlike her friends.'_

_No!_ I would _not_ think about that now. I couldn't. If I had to let the thought enter my mind that I was the only one that survived that battle, I...it wouldn't even bear thinking about. I felt tears prickling up my nose, and forced them back down. I could order my thoughts later, when the only woman who might have a clue about what was happening to me _wasn't_ being chased by Red Wizards.

In frustration I threw my eyes to a random corner and, as chance would have it, they fell upon a small pile of bloodied but still unmistakable gear, haphazardly thrown to one side. I rummaged through the collection, ignoring those items that were beyond repair, and found my sturdy, trustworthy boots. I pulled them on, ignoring all the thoughts and conjecture swimming wildly about my head, and forced myself to remain in the here and now. Lienna might know who those _people_ were, and, if luck would finally decide to come to my aid as it had so often done in the past, she would be just in this next room.

With my old, blissfully familiar boots giving me strength, I kicked open the door.

"Wh-wha? Safiya! What...what are you doing here?" Yet another Red Wizard exclaimed in surprise.

Predictably, Lienna wasn't there. I felt the tiny spark of hope that was keeping me going die just a little more. At least if I got no answers from this merry little jaunt through the Shadow Plane, I'd still be able to ask Safiya why the two woman who had cut me open like a side of beef looked _just_ like her...

"Oh gods..." I heard Safiya mutter under her breath, "I thought I smelled incompetence." Her voice was flat and annoyed. She sounded just like I did whenever there was a setback that wasn't worth the time it wasted. I made an inquisitive noise, and she elaborated loudly, "This is Khai Khmun, one of the most worthless piles of sputum to wear the red robes of Thay. I can't think why he's strayed so far from his mentor's leash..." her voice was a sneer by the end, her lips seeming to curl up with the effort of talking about the snivelling fool before us.

"All that is _changing_!" he insisted, puffing out his chest and turning his nose up at us. It was quite a feat, seeing as the two of us were still on the stage above him and he was pitifully scrawny. "Araman rewards his allies well, and with Lienna dead, I've earned a promotion."

I closed my eyes to calm myself, breathing deeply and telling myself that this would just _prolong_ my homecoming, not destroy it. The sneaking suspicion came over me that Lienna may well have been the one responsible for all of this, if all the evidence pointing to that very conclusion meant anything. If so, it wasn't _that_ great a tragedy that she died, but it did mean I'd have my answers much later than I'd have liked, _and_, more to the point, I wouldn't be able to exact my vengeance _personally_.

"You know, it's almost a shame the old hag didn't put up much of a fight," he continued, his own arrogance overriding the bout of cowardice he'd had upon seeing us, "She destroyed herself in a blaze of fire...must have known she couldn't best me." He nodded to one side and it was only then that I noticed the corpse, charred beyond all recognition. It _was_ indeed strange that she'd done such a thing. Still, this dunce certainly didn't know, and there was no point in pondering on what he'd said until he was dispatched.

"I needed to talk to her, you idiot," I snapped, baring my teeth, "that'll cost you your life." It was only then he'd seemed to notice me. His eyes widened in what was unmistakably fear, and he visibly paled. I was impressed with my own reputation preceding me before I remembered we were many leagues from the sword coast.

"_You!_ Araman warned me of you! Safiya, why would you travel with this...this _thing_?"

"You claim to know me, wizard?" I interjected before she could answer.

"Look, I want no trouble from you!" he replied quickly, holding up his hands, "Stand aside – my quarrel is with Safiya. I doubt she'll put up nearly as much of a fight as Lienna...or her mother," he finished viciously, his eyes sliding to Safiya. Oh, _I'd_ give him something to be _scared_ of...

"My..._mother_?" Safiya snarled, "Khai Khmun, you had _best_ be mocking me... if you raised your hand against my mother, I will extract a _thousand_ screams from your _wretched_ hide!" Heedless of the insanity of his actions, the wizard smirked.

"Oh, she had no idea it was coming. She used every last cantrip she knew but, well, her loyal allies - her daughter, even - never arrived to save her..."

"And to think that you once claimed to _care_ for me..." Safiya was getting _angry_. I could feel it rolling off her in waves. If she had less control over her demonstrably _ample_ abilities, I imagined her fingertips would be crackling by now.

"Lienna was _wise_ to destroy herself rather than fight me," Khai continued, digging himself deeper and deeper, "I doubt you have the old hag's sense to surrender - to make this quick... No matter, let's settle—"

Before he could finish his clichéd threat, Safiya had shot out a hand and a pillar of lighting erupted from her palm, catching the fool wizard square in the chest. His companion moved to cast a defensive spell but I had already launched myself off the stage and my left first slammed into his jaw even as I brought my swordarm around to slice his throat. He was quick to recover and dodge, but not quick enough to evade the stab to his side. His spell was interrupted with a strangled cry and I booted him in the stomach, sending him sprawling on the ground. The erinyes had been patiently awaiting command during the dialogue, but were now circling Safiya, kept back by the number of animated blades flying around the young wizardess. None of them seemed to want to attack _me_, which I found curious. They defended themselves when I attacked, but seemed somehow...fearful? Perhaps they knew the same things as Khai had that had made him so anxious...

Within a few minutes they lay battered and broken alongside their masters on the grey, shadowy floorboards of the theatre. I bent over and rested my hands on my knees as I caught my breath. Fighting I was used to, but fighting on no food, no rest and with a jagged, bloody gash in my chest wasn't something I did every day. Safiya prodded Khai's corpse with her foot, but there was little feeling in it.

"I always assumed Khai's ambition would get him killed...but I didn't think it would be by my hand. No matter...he will not be missed, by me or his peers."

"What he said before...about your mother..." I started carefully. She didn't say anything, her eyes remaining fixed on his lifeless body. "I'm sorry."

"I can only hope that Khai was lying to unsettle me...I should not have given him the pleasure of getting so angry. Still...if he was telling the truth I...I should never have left the Academy when I did. My mother, Nefris - she has the respect of the other wizards, but not their love..."

"She sounds pretty easy to respect, from what you've said."

"I'm running out of trustworthy people in my life...just Kaji...and Master Djafi at the Academy...if he still lives. If he stood by my mother he may well have...I just wish I knew their fates..."

"But we won't, I suppose, until we find this Araman and get the answers straight from his throat," I said simply. Were I in her position the room would probably have been scorched, but even so the last thing I would have wanted were for someone to spout platitudes at me.

"Yes...you're...you're quite right, actually," she said, sounding almost surprised at her own reaction, "my mother raised me to be direct and decisive. Had the situation been reversed - had someone harmed me, her wrath would have been...merciless. I will grieve for my mother by finding Araman and crushing him."

"You don't know for sure she's dead," I reminded her, telling myself that the same applied to the companions I'd left behind me somehow, "and we won't find out if we stay here."

"Agreed. With Lienna dead, perhaps our best course of action is to speak to the dwarf woman, and the other actors - there is a chance Lienna confided in one of them."

"I hope so," I muttered as I finished rooting around in Khai's pockets for anything useful and stood shakily.

"But first, I suspect you'll want to have a rest. That was...quite a shock you had earlier," Safiya said matter-of-factly. As if agreeing with her, a wave of dizziness hit the back of my head and made me forget what I was going to say. I opened my eyes to see a brownish potion in a meticulously labelled flask being handed to me by my ever helpful companion. I gulped the thick liquid down with a grimace and immediately felt myself perk up. My stomach was still quick to remind me that a potion didn't count as real food, but it could wait a few more minutes. There'd be a tavern somewhere around here. If a dull little swamp village like West Harbour had a tavern, a fully fledged town like Mulsantir would have one too. It would help if I had more gold than whatever was in Khai's purse, but I'd managed to take charge of an entire keep with just the clothes on my back and a sword in my hand. Whatever this new, unfamiliar land threw at me, I was sure I could handle it.

-+-+-+-+-+-

It took me remarkably little time to decide without hesitation that I _hated_ witches. After finding the Veil theatre empty once we'd exited the shadow plane, we'd decided to head to the sloop to plot our next move and get some food in my belly – a plan that I was _very_ enthusiastic about. The sun had long since set, and the torches that burnt around Mulsantir did little to banish the darkness that enfolded the town. And then, Sheva, Kazimika and Katya – ridiculous names, at that – had materialised out of nowhere, as if walking wasn't good enough, and proceeded to berate me about the fact that my being _alive_ meant that bloody bear god, spirit, _thing_, whatever, was now outside of the gates and calling for my blood or, at the very least, my head on a pike.

It was all too much. Judging by the way even Safiya's cool, collected voice was clipped with anger, she agreed.

"I can _smell_ the wrongness on you, foreigner!" the short, uglier one said with a nasty gleam in her eye. I wished people would stop calling me that. It wasn't like I had specifically journeyed all the way to Rasheman just to piss in their offering pool and laugh about it. Hells, if they wanted me to leave I'd be _more_ than happy, but it didn't look like _anyone_ would be getting out of the town before Okku was dealt with, one way or another. "It hangs upon you like a corpse-shroud," she finished ominously.

"So people keep telling me," I replied conversationally, "though like yourself they're remarkably shy 'bout the details."

"Deal with the bear god, girl, and perhaps we will explain things to you further," said Sheva, the only one of them with any sense. She was still a wretched old hag who probably wanted to lynch me for whatever crime I'd apparently committed against her sensibilities, but at least she was old enough to know the two young ones with her were witless and naive.

"_Deal_ with him? What d'you want me to do, huh? Battle a whole army of spirits? Or would you rather I just presented my neck and let him have his way?"

"Make your peace with the bear god, foreigner," and just like that, Sheva had lost whatever points she'd gained in my eyes, "by whatever means you both deem best."

"And then, you'll let us speak with Magda?" Safiya asked, a thread of annoyance still weaving through her tone.

"She'll be kept safe," Sheva assured her, before turning to me, "From the bear god's horde, and from _you_, if need be. As for Okku, our laws state that no Witch may stand against the spirits of the land... but I will honour the debt we owe you, foreigner, for defeating the Red Wizards." Ah, this was finally starting to look promising. "Go to our prison, on the north edge of town. Any convict who is willing to stand at your side will be granted a full pardon."

"What?" I spluttered, marvelling at how pleased Sheva looked with herself. "That's a fine offer, Witch, don't give me any _real_ warriors, just give me the ones you want dead _anyway_."

"It is a kinder offer than you know, foreigner," Kazimika said helpfully, narrowing her eyes behind her mask in a way that I'm sure was meant to appear mysterious.

"You know not what dreams may lie hidden behind steel and rune, foreigner," Sheva added tersely, "but feel free to discard my offer." She reminded me suddenly of Elanee, of the way the aloof elf would always find a way to turn the conversation so it was _me_ that was in the wrong and _her_ that was only trying to help. "We will watch the battle from our high place," she nodded towards a cliff jutting out from the hill Mulsantir was built on, "and we will receive you again, if you should return alive."

"That's a big 'if'," I muttered bitterly as they left us with another unnecessary display of magic illuminating the darkness around them.

"We should go to the prison, Evelyn," Safiya offered, looking up the long path towards the top of the hill where the prison sat like a fortress, "Even if the offer _was_ meant as something of an insult, there was something in what she said that makes me think we'll find some help there. At this point I suppose any help is better than none."

"You don't have to come with me, Safiya," I replied tiredly as I let my feet carry me towards the docks and the smell of cooked food, "You've done more than enough for me, there's no point in you fighting if it'll just be a suicide mission either way. You can sit this one out."

"Like hell I will," she shot back, quickening her step to keep pace with me, "you don't deserve any of this, and after all that's happened there's no way I'll let those witches get you killed." It was oddly personal of her. As if realising what she'd said, she went on in a slightly more neutral tone, "I mean, after you helped me defeat those other Red Wizards, it's the least I can do." I was in no mood to argue.

"Well, if that's how you're feeling, you can do one better and," having found the tavern with practiced ease, I swung open the door, "buy me dinner."

-+-+-+-+-+-

The door closed with a quiet, muted click, a pale hand resting against its surface. She'd only seen his still, battered body once since it was retrieved from Meredelain, and, strangely enough, she hadn't been one of the many visitors he'd received over the past two weeks. It had hurt too much, knowing she'd let her commander throw himself into danger while she stayed behind. Alright, so he was no longer her commander, but she still felt she _owed_ him for teaching her so much and for having her as a sergeant when she'd asked him. She'd always looked up to the soft-spoken but charming paladin, even when she was still a teenager, fresh into Neverwinter's ranks. He'd been patient, and kind, and it was only natural she'd develop feelings for him beyond mere camaraderie.

She might have hoped for something more in return. She'd started to think it could happen. And then, in a flash of red hair and playful freckles, he was lost. It was all _her_ fault. That woman with her easy smiles, her sultry eyes, her fiery speech, and her fierceness in battle that rivaled _his_. Deep down, Katriona knew the young Knight-Captain wasn't to blame, but it was so much easier to imagine the man she'd been in love with for so, so long had been seduced away by some ill-mannered enchantress, rather than facing the truth that maybe he just _didn't_ love her back.

Of course she'd been shocked when the Knight-Captain hadn't come back, but upon seeing Casavir's lifeless body being carried to the infirmary to do what could be done to mend his many broken bones, the thought had crossed her mind that perhaps it was a message from the Gods, telling her to try one last time to win his love.

She sighed as she sat in the well-used chair by his bedside, smoothing her poker-straight blonde locks back from her classically beautiful face. His scars were fading nicely, though there were a few that would be permanent, like the one running from his top lip down to his chin, the skin a lighter shade of pink than the rest. It didn't make him ugly, though, far from it. The scars, old and new, that criss-crossed over his forearms, his hands, the few that had caught his face...they only served to turn him from an _ordinary _impossibly handsome man into a battle-hardened warrior. Katriona twisted her lips bitterly. No wonder the maids and a good number of the female soldiers blushed and giggled as he passed them by. He was politely ignorant of the effect he had on women, and seemed baffled at the best of times by how easily he could smooth over any situation with that easy, sincere charm of his, delivered in his smooth, pleasantly accented voice. It was no wonder she was in love with him. She probably wasn't the only one.

There were rumours circulating the Keep, first of the Knight-Captain's involvement with that vile ranger from Luskan, and then of her spending more time than usual with her loyal paladin. One maid even swore hands-down she'd seen 'Miss Ashcroft' leaving his room in the early hours of the morning. Katriona supposed it was to be expected from a woman as flighty as the Captain, but it angered her to think of the man she loved being used like a toy after the Captain tired of whatever she was doing with the ranger. Katriona suspected her ex-commander's feelings towards his new leader weren't exactly platonic, but she never thought he'd be taken in by her act, especially seeing as he loathed the ranger. Secretly, she simply wished the Captain had taken up with the ranger for good, giving Casavir a reason to dislike her, and letting Katriona back into the picture. But, of course, whatever she'd done with the ranger had ended and ended badly, judging from the scene on the walls.

She stared at the prone figure on the bed, hoping that the man before her had enough sense to see that whatever he thought he had with the Knight-Captain would end in precisely the same way. Maybe once he woke up and saw that she was either dead or a deserter, he'd forget about her for good. It would be for the best.

"I know you probably think you love her," Katriona whispered thickly, "but she doesn't love you. She can't love you, not like I do. She doesn't know how wonderful you are…" her voice was cut off as her breath caught in her throat.

It was the closest to a confession she'd ever come. It had hurt, watching him be taken away by the brassy adventurer from the south, just when she thought they were starting to be something more than comrades in arms. It had hurt even more, knowing that, while she'd never been able to reach him, the newly-instated Captain could talk to him like they were the oldest of friends. Maybe now that she was gone, Katriona thought, the paladin would finally notice her.

"Um…well, I guess you might have heard they've given command of the Keep to Kana," she spoke again, feeling a little stupid about talking to someone who couldn't talk back, but taking comfort in the idea that she might be reaching him somehow. Talking of menial things would take her mind off the ache in her heart, and she chattered on like a noblewoman. "After they proclaimed the Knight-Captain dead there was a bit of a power vacuum, and Nevalle can't stay here, so they asked Kana if she'd like to take over. I don't think she was too happy about it, but it's a good opportunity. Most of the soldiers are still around, but the bulk of the Greycloaks have either gone back to their homes or have moved up to Neverwinter."

"I don't know how close you were with the others you travelled with, but most of them have gone too. They buried the ones that didn't make it, and they put up this monument to those lost to battle in the courtyard. All the names of those who were killed are etched on, including some of your old companions. And there's a bust of _her_, too. They felt after all she'd done it was the least they could do. I heard Kana insisted upon it. Maybe you remember Veedle? He's the one that oversaw the rebuilding of the Keep. Well, did you know he's a pretty good sculptor, too? It's really very good. I guess you'd know better than me, but the face, and the hair, it's the spitting image of her. There's so many flowers and tributes around the monument, and a lot of people have come to pay their respects, especially to her."

Katriona let out a small, humourless laugh. "I guess it doesn't matter what I thought of her. She saved a lot of people's lives, and she did a lot of good before she died. So did you, but your name's not on there. I don't know how you survived what you did, Casavir, but I knew you wouldn't give up that easily." She smiled. "They said it should have killed you several times over. But…something kept you holding on. Was it Tyr? Was it…was it her?" Her voice hushed to a whisper. "I know I shouldn't bring it up all the time. It's just…" she sighed huffily, "it's just really, _really_ hard to keep quiet when the only man you've ever loved only has eyes for someone else."

It was pathetic, she thought, that she could only say these things out loud – let alone to _him_ – when there was absolutely no chance he'd hear her.

She shook the thoughts from her mind. Squaring her shoulders, and reminding herself that the man before her wouldn't be so petty, she started talking again, this time about the Keep, the end of the great battle, and the fates of his friend, carefully leaving out any mention of the Knight-Captain's rather sudden departure from the realm of the living.

Secretly, in her mind, she prayed to her god and his that Casavir would wake up soon. She wasn't sure how much longer she could go on giving herself false hope.

**A.N.** If you haven't figured it out yet, the bits at the end are no one's particular POV, and just serve to let you know what's going on back at the Keep. Yes, Katriona is alive, well, and has a soul, so expect some more of her in this part of the story. Next chapter – Evelyn meets Gann, battles Okku, kills some gargoyles bearing bad news, and writes home, where Casavir gets yet another visitor...

Chryseis – the end to chapter 28 was just a way of keeping things nice and vague. It's obvious Zhjaeve has died, and most of you have guessed that Casavir's alive but in an indefinitely long coma, but the others will trickle along eventually. Most of their fates should be revealed in the next chapter where another visitor shows up to say goodbye to everyone's favourite paladin. I just really didn't like the fates you were given in the game, so I've tweaked them ever so slightly. To give things a bit of an overly dramatic shakeup, I'm basically giving canon the finger and doing what I want ^^

Morwenna – Yeah, I always thought when you're talking to Kelemvor there should be an option to say "So, seeing as you probably know, can you tell me how xyz are doing in the afterlife?" Sucks. So, in this story, I'm just letting ill-informed gargoyles and overly zealous Neverwinter officials who want to bury someone before she's dead give our two favourite characters something to angst about.

Chrissyleena – MotB is an..._interesting_ game. I got the feeling while I was playing it that they looked at the OC and thought 'repressed human paladin, feisty teifling rogue, axe-happy dwarven warrior, what a bunch of clichés!' so instead they opted for a Red Wizard with a heart of gold, a ridiculously attractive _hagspawn_, and a goddamn bear spirit god thing. Don't even get me _started _on the other companions, or even how completely fucking insane the storyline is. I'll try and make it as down-to-earth as possible, but things might get a little freaky soon enough if you haven't played the game before.

Harmakhis – Thanks for noticing! I always hated that you were forced to be like 'well, I literally _just_ saved the world a few days ago, but sure, why the hell not, I'll go along with this insane plot twist and not mention how screwed up it is...' And, as I'm sure you've guessed by now, Evelyn doesn't let _anything_ go without a fight, not even Casavir...(hint hint spoiler hint)


	31. Chapter 31

**A.N.** I'm so sorry this is so late! As a present to make up for it, I give you a brand new painted portrait of Casavir and one of Evelyn. Check out my deviantart page (linked from my profile) to see them. It's worth it, I promise! They both took me fucking ages, and Casavir is pretty damn hot if I do say so myself ;)

**Chapter 31**

The relief as I felt food sliding down my throat was enough to make me groan in pleasure. I hadn't eaten for so, so long, and my first proper meal was close enough to old-fashioned tavern grub that it felt like a feast. Safiya had picked at a plate and confessed to me that she was still worried about her mother, though she knew nothing could be done until Okku was out of the way. She also explained to me the sudden attack of 'the voices' a she called them, a strange collection of, well, _voices_, that had been with her most of her life, and how they had saved or guided her more than once.

Ah, so she was _that_ kind of crazy.

In return I told her a little more about my home and its destruction, as well as the Keep I'd left behind. She'd been sympathetic but hardly grief-stricken on my behalf, clearly understanding that although some pains never leave us, time and necessity can heal most wounds. The food had been so, _so_ good. Although, considering how long I'd been without eating, a bowl of orphan-grade gruel would have sufficed. Perhaps that was an inappropriate expression, seeing as I was an orphan. And Casavir, and Neeshka, and Kendra, now. And, probably, Safiya, too. Maybe I just attracted the parentless types.

I'd won a pouch of pipeweed in a card game with one of the sailors. Safiya had told me to watch myself as I'd strolled over, but I wasn't just some pretty little lass with a sword in her hand, I was a battle-scarred, battle-tested warrior with a sword in her belt and a 7-inch knife in her boot. They'd chuckled at first, as sailors did, and then, when they saw I was serious, thought it was a harmless bit of fun. And then I proceeded to take a chunk of their money and a pouch of their finest tobacco, as well as a pipe to smoke it in. The sight of the smiles vanishing from their faces would keep me happy for many a night. You didn't work as a barmaid for six years without picking up a trick or two. And you also didn't work long, sober winter nights without a smoke to keep you warm. I'd given up that particular vice when I was promoted to Captain, but I figured that recent events had more than given me an excuse to take it up again. At least temporarily.

As I'd puffed away in the corner of the sloop, I was the happiest I'd felt since I'd woken that...morning, maybe? It was late at night, then, but there was no chance for sleep by the way things had looked. The shadows were thicker and darker in the night, somehow, and what little information Safiya had picked up about shadow Mulsantir told me to be careful.

I'd excused myself for a few short moments and, with a couple of coins changing hands, found myself an empty room in the back with a small basin of warm water, a mirror, and a set of shears. I didn't look at myself just yet. I wasn't that stupid. Instead, I'd scrubbed my face with a rough but damp cloth, and winced when the cut on my chin reminded me I still hadn't properly dressed many of my new wounds. After I was sure at least my face was something approaching clean, I'd lifted the mirror and took a long, hard look at my reflection. There were thick, yellowish bags under my eyes, and a number of new scratches that fit in well with the lightening scars I already held. What had struck me the most was how thin I looked. My cheekbones were hollow, and my skin looked wan and pale. Grimacing, I'd propped the mirror up against a crate and tugged my wet hands through the bird nest that I called hair. With some convincing, it had straightened itself out into frizzy, lank locks held together by dirt, with one side now obviously longer than the other. It was grim, to say the least. It was then I'd taken the sheers and hacked off the other side of my hair so the two were roughly even. It now just reached my shoulders. Before, it had flowed down my back in an impractical but beautiful mane of crimson. Now, I looked like a neglected ragdoll.

It wasn't a proper bath or a night's sleep, but at least I looked human. Well, sort of. Safiya's eyes had actually bulged in their sockets as she'd caught sight of me. Apparently, she'd said, I'd been dirtier than I thought, for I looked very different with a clean face. Kaji had said how pretty I was. Coming from a creature made of mud and twigs, I wasn't sure whether or not that was a compliment.

Efrem and Susah, the bizarre, winged set of celestials I'd met as we left the tavern had pleaded with me to find their sister in some dead God's temple. It was a strange request, but upon finding a hidden portal to Shadow Mulsantir, I was too curious to refuse. Besides, she'd sounded like she'd be pretty helpful in a fight. We'd waded through shadows and pools of grey blood to find Kaelyn the Dove staring at a huge, black-on-black door in the vault, which had been guarded by two of the same hideous, screaming creatures that Garius had left us with, back in the Keep's courtyard what felt like a lifetime ago. Kaelyn had a soft, pleasant voice that sounded strangely fragile, though she herself looked like she could have held off the legions of undead that stormed the Keep without any help. Her skin was a muted shade of grey, and her hair was silvery white. Her eyes, though, they were the thing that caught me. They were so dark, almost black, I realised as we re-entered the colourful world of the living, and in them was such pain, such emotion, that I found them difficult to look at, or look_ away _from. She was beautiful in an ethereal, angelic sort of way – which made sense, all things considered – and, if I was perfectly honest, was really, really weird. In the short moments she'd been in my company, Kaelyn had barely said a thing to either me or Safiya, and stared out at the world with a single-minded determination that I found less than comforting. Still, if she knew how to use that mace of hers, she'd be a hell of an asset against Okku.

'_Perhaps you were called here, just as I was. If so, perhaps the planes have need of us.__I pledge myself to your service. Let us see what good we can achieve by our alliance, and may Ilmater bless our endeavor.__..__'_

Her words chilled me more than I liked to admit. She gave simple phrases such weight and importance, accepting her into my command felt like I was giving an oath. She was pleasant enough, I supposed, but talking with her was deeply unsettling. It made me feel as if there was so much more going on around me than I could ever hope to know. I just prayed that none of it had to involve me this time, just for once.

And now, as the sky began to lighten before the dawn, I found myself leading a celestial cleric and a Red Wizard to Mulsantir's prison to pick up convicts. If I could have imagined how I'd be spending the first day after the battle in Meredelain had been won, this _wouldn't_ have been it. Thinking about what I'd _hoped_ to see upon awaking only dragged up the dark thoughts in the back of my mind that maybe that woman in my vision was right after all, and I was the only one who made it out alive. It didn't bear thinking about. All it did was force my heart into my throat and cause my stomach to twist unpleasantly. Funnily enough, I was still hungry. Even after eating enough to satisfy a full grown man, there was still something gnawing in the pit of my stomach. I put it down to lack of sleep and, in what was becoming a habit recently, pushed it to the back of my mind.

The prison looked thoroughly uninviting. It towered over the temple in front of it, and the large, misshapen stone blocks it was constructed out of made it look like a dank cellar in the middle of a city. Still, if this was the only leg up we were going to get from those bloody witches, I'd take it happily. Well, not happily, but I wouldn't complain _too_ loudly in case they took it away again. With Kaelyn by my side I felt better about facing Okku, but seeing as the reports spoke of an _army_ and not just the bear god himself, a few disposable lackeys wouldn't go amiss.

The heavy door creaked as I pushed it open, squinting in the sparse light inside to try and make out the image of the woman before me. She was a witch, by the look of her, though all I knew about witches could have been written on a thumbnail, and she looked as ill-tempered as a swamp troll. The thick, sagging wrinkles that lined her prune-like face squashed together as she scowled at us. A knobbly old digit pointed shakily at me as she spoke, her voice rasping and accusing.

"As you have disturbed the spirits, you also disturb _me_," she hissed, apparently holding the same opinion of me as her superiors did, "For what reason are you here?"

"Sheva told me I could talk to the convicts," I said, nodding towards the rows of thick, dark doors that were bolted shut down the corridor, "And any that will help me I may take to fight the spirit army outside the gates."

"Help?" She spat, "From this lot? Trust in their _help_ and you'll find yourself alone when trouble comes."

"I don't care if they abandon me the second the fight's over," I replied, my voice as even and calm as I could manage, "just so long as they're near enough when it starts."

"_Hmph._ If you wish to persist in this foolishness, you may speak with the prisoners."

"Who are they?" I asked as I moved towards the cells.

"A murderer, a thief, and one whom I will not speak of. Dangerous, he is. Be warned: you need not fear the first two, but the third...guard your thoughts, girl, and guard them well."

I marked the tremble in her voice, and the genuine fear in her eyes. Who _was_ this prisoner who'd shaken her up so? Whoever he was, if he could do that to a witch, I'd happily have him aboard. As long as he wasn't the _violent_ sort of crazy...

I pleaded with the inhabitants of the first two cells with little success. One was a brute too stupid to see reason but too smart to be tricked. The other was a gnome who'd seen the way I'd tried to manipulate his fellow inmate, and wanted no part of it. And then, I'd pushed open the door to the third cell, curious as to why there was, at the very least, no window...

What I found, sitting, leaning against the wall as if he was in an open meadow instead of a tiny, cold cell, was nothing like I expected. His features could have been chiselled from stone, with his strong jaw, high cheekbones and thick, enticing lips. His skin was a strange colour, even in the dark light of early dawn, and must have either been a light blue or grey. His hair lay in a careless, smooth mop over his head, falling over one eye even as he rolled his head languidly to regard me. His mouth curled up into a smirk, and his eyes...his eyes were hooded, dark, and a myriad of colours, swimming together and sparkling with amusement. His whole posture was one of effortless grace, of one who knows he is beautiful to look upon and is happy to take full advantage of that fact. He was bound like a demon with the glyphs scattered across the floor, but acted as if he was having the time of his life, as if I was an intruder rather than a visitor.

"Ah, more jailers come to rattle my cage?" He spoke before I found the will to, his voice like honey, rich and smooth.

And then it began. I tried to follow his train of thought and not let myself be frustrated by his flippantness, arrogance and, annoyingly enough, the fact that he actually seemed to be _enjoying_ this, but it was something of a lost cause, considering how short my fuse was when I was tired. He was still talking. Something about how Okku the Bear God was going to kill me in a flurry of colour and how peculiar that would be to watch.

"_Look_," I interrupted him finally, digging my fingers into my crossed arms and stepping inside the circle of glyphs chalked out on the floor. They flashed briefly, but I wasn't incinerated so I assumed I was safe. "You can stay here and rot behind bars as you hidefrom your legions of admirers if that's what you want," I snarled, my voice laced with sarcasm, "_Or_, and this is just a suggestion, you can actually do something _interesting_ and come with me. Whatever happens, it'll sure as hell be more exciting than this place," I jerked my head to indicate the cramped, dim and _tiny_ cell he occupied. I could tell he was interested. Scratch that, I could tell he was going to say yes, but if the minutes I'd spent with him so far were any indication, he'd drag _that_ out too.

"Oh, indeed?" He tilted his head to regard me thoughtfully as he rose to his feet like a cat. He was a good four inches taller than me, and, to my sleep-deprived brain, this was another reason why I didn't like him. "And how is it that you can promise such things, lady? Do you know what the future holds?"

"I didn't say a damn thing about promises. I'm giving you a chance to get out of here, nothing more. Now are you coming with me or not?"

His mouth broke into a wide smile as he chuckled in response. The part of my mind that was still awake said he was toying with me, but the rest of me didn't care. All I needed to do was defeat the bear god, shake the witches until something useful fell out, talk to Magda, solve this mystery, get passage home, and make up for all the nights I'd lay in Casavir's bed fully clothed. Yes, that was a plan and a half. I'd work out the details along the way. I always had, and I'd a knighthood and a Keep to show for it. '_As well as a handful of dead friends and some horrific curse no one seems to want to talk about...'_ I cut the thought off before it could take me any further down that dark path. Denial was my friend in times like this.

"I think this exchange bodes well for our travels," Gannayev, as he'd introduced himself, replied with a smile, "You have a willing soldier at your side, _milady_." His voice was a purr, and a rebellious part of my mind smugly informed me that, had this been a few years ago, I'd be swooning by now.

"Then come," I said abruptly, turning to leave, "we haven't got a lot of time."

"In such a hurry to die?" he asked with what I assumed he thought was an innocent expression.

"If you _must_ know, I'm in a hurry to get out of this one-horse town, away from those gods-damned _witches_, and back _home_," I snarled, stalking down the corridor towards the warden of this tiny prison, "And, unfortunately, Okku has put himself in the way of that goal and _me_. I'd advise you _not_ to join him."

His next words weren't meant for me, but reached my ears anyway. When they did, they brought back a flood of memories of my flight from home and the confusion of events after I'd met the ranger that would eventually betray me. I could even remember the exact tone of his voice as he neatly summed up an argument between him, myself and Casavir. I hadn't known then just how much those two men would change my life, for good and for ill. Gann's voice, though, was different – he wasn't a lean, Luskan ranger with trust issues for one, he was...well, I didn't really know what he was.

Either way, he sounded just as amused as he turned to one of my companions and muttered, "Ah, I think I'll like this journey after all."

-+-+-+-+-+-

The sun's rays spilled over the land as the dawn broke. Okku had lain battered before us, the spirits he brought with him all but vanished, and his own aura distinctly dimmed. I'd signalled to the others to stay their attacks, and opened my mouth to offer him his life in exchange for answers. I hadn't expected that he would raise his head, his eyes half-mad with fear, and shout at me to take a blade and to tear out his throat. It hadn't been in the tone of a proud warrior who equates defeat with death. No, he'd been terrified.

I'd asked him why he was so anxious to die, but he hadn't the time to give an answer. Not before that...that _thing_ took me over and shot its shadowy tentacles at the bear god and demanded that I drain him just like I'd drained that spirit wolf.

The _shock_ of the sudden hunger rising up had been almost as bad as the hunger itself. The others, those I had taken with me to fight, they yelled at me to stop. Okku for his part was almost resigned to his fate. And perhaps that was what made me sum up every ounce of will I possessed and force the wretched hunger aside. I screamed in my mind that I would never be a slave – not to a city, not to a leader, and not to myself. Whatever this thing was, it would _not_ take me. It was then I cried out with the effort, watched as its many arms released Okku and shrunk back as if physically struck, and I sunk to my knees, panting.

My breath had been dry and ragged, but I'd still managed to demand an explanation from the great bear, even as I found I lacked the strength to stand. The others had come then and helped me to my feet as Okku explained in its horrific entirety what had just happened. It was no less painful than I'd expected, to hear the words come from his mouth. I was cursed, it seemed, and marked for death because of it. I was arrogant enough, and recent events had made me foolhardy enough to laugh in the face of any enemy. But one that was inside myself? One I couldn't even see or touch or feel, much less kill? A cool, suffocating blanket of dread fell upon me as the enormity of the situation made itself known. I was a spirit-eater, doomed to walk the land until the hunger, madness or some kind soul ended me.

There was no cure. No spirit eater had lasted long enough for it to matter, in any case. Okku had promised me his company and loyalty, but I could see in his eyes that he thought the cause a hopeless one. It was as if the fates had teamed together, assessed my works over the past few years, and came to the conclusion that it simply wasn't painful _enough_. No, instead of letting me rest and enjoy the rewards I was due, they decided to dump me in the hands of two very unskilled surgeons and _curse_ me, as if I hadn't endured enough already.

I'd wanted to cry, to scream out to the heavens at the unfairness of it all, but I'd learnt a long time ago that heaven either didn't care or didn't hear. Instead, I'd stalked back to the city gates, glaring at the townspeople as they recoiled in fear. The hunger growled restlessly deep within my soul. I could feel it, and now I could put a name for the cold, hollow emptiness in my chest.

And then we'd marched up the hill, weaving through the people that came to threaten, to shout, or just to gawk, and set our sights upon the Witches' high place. If anyone could tell me where to go from here, I'd reasoned bitterly, it would be those hags that ruled this place.

It was as teeth-grindingly awful as I'd thought it would be. The younger two spared no time in throwing all manner of insults my way, treating me like a creature from the abyss who'd bludgeoned my way into their town and was now demanding they put me up for the night. I suppose that wasn't too far off, from their perspective. Much to my satisfaction, Okku had managed to take Kazimika down a peg or three, but still the witches remained so utterly convinced of my place in the deepest level of Hell that I'd had to truly _force_ myself to converse with them in a manner approaching civility.

What they told me no longer surprised me, but with every reference to the child's nightmare I'd apparently crawled out of, I felt another nail embed itself in my coffin. They told me the same as Okku. Every spirit-eater ended up the same. If they were not killed by another in a gesture of sympathy, the hunger they carried as their burden turned in upon themselves, and they were utterly destroyed. I could give into the curse, indulge the hunger and become the monster of legend, or I could resist as I had done today. I could deny the gnawing pain deep within my soul and watch as my body and mind wasted away.

I'd asked them how it happened, why it had been me. And then Safiya's hand had clamped down on my wrist as I moved to strike Kazmikia, who had told me in a voice thick with bile that 'few punishments are truly undeserved'. It had been a long day, and my patience was wearing thin. She tested my restraint further as she told me my fate was to die unmourned in some lonely crag, as befits any ravening monster. Safiya's hand hadn't moved, and so neither did I, though not for lack of trying. I took some small comfort in the fact that at least the leaders of Neverwinter hadn't treated me like _this._

And so after a difficult and lengthy conversation, the witches told me to seek out the Wood Man. He'd fought the spirit-eaters before, and perhaps he could help me.

Or perhaps he would just kill me. Apparently that was a risk well worth taking where I was concerned.

I knew if the witches had their way, I would have been killed by Okku. Maybe that would have been for the best. My suffering would be cut short, and perhaps in Neverwinter at least I would be remembered for the sacrifices I'd made.

But no. While I lived and breathed I would fight. Whatever fate threw at me, I would take it and deal with it as I always had. I _would_ cure myself, and then I would go home. I _would_ have my happy ending. I'd left West Harbour with nothing more than a dream and a mission, and from those humble beginnings I'd fought and sent the King of Shadows screaming back to his own personal hell. A Rashemi curse was not enough to stop me.

This was my comfort, even as I sent the others minus Safiya on to the Sloop to rest while I talked to Magda to glean whatever I could about the women who'd done this to me.

-+-+-+-+-+-

"Just _shut up!_" I yelled, effectively silencing the babbling gargoyles that had burst through the portals in Lienna's 'secret room'. They seemed to shrink away from me in fear, which I supposed was an improvement upon a few seconds ago. "Now," I said in a slow, measured tone that allowed no misunderstanding, "tell me who you are, and what in the hells you're talking about. How do you know who I am?"

"Forgive us, good master," one hissed, creeping forward and flinching as though it expected me to strike, "our white lady told us to seek you out, to watch you from the shadows. And so we watched, in your keep, through your war, and in the umbral dark of Merdelain, our eyes were never far..."

Understanding hit me square in the chest. I was chosen for all of this even before I'd moved against the King of Shadows. The only thing that made me special, I reasoned, was the shard that had once been locked within my chest. And so, under the command of their mistress, the gargoyles had taken me back to Lienna, who had clearly been one of the women who'd removed the shard. That all made a twisted kind of sense. I didn't know what she needed the shard for, and I wouldn't much care as long as she'd left me alone, but no, she'd dumped me in a spirit-infested barrow where I'd apparently picked up an ancient curse. And so I was faced with two possibilities. Either she had no idea what she was doing by dumping me there and just wished to be rid of me, or she'd known that I'd become a spirit-eater. If it was the first, I was left with the apparently impossible task of finding a cure. If it was the second, then I still had to find a cure, but at least I knew who to blame.

And if she had intended for me to become the spirit eater, the question remained – why me? Once she'd taken the shard I'd have been as unremarkable as anyone else, and yet she'd chosen me to bear this burden, even after knowing all I'd endured as the shard-bearer.

Either way, I owed her a debt of pain. Yes, Lienna was dead, but the woman in red was, I assumed, alive. I was not a vengeful person by nature, but it took a special kind of person to forgive a crime as great as this. I _wasn't_ that special.

"When the rocks smashed your bones," another continued, "we _saved_ you from death! Had we not borne you away, you would have ended up like your comrades..."

Fear gripped my heart and turned my blood cold. My...comrades...?

"Her _minions,_ more like!" the first gargoyle spat, "They followed her blindly to their deaths, like chattel, like willing slaves. I do _not_ pity them!"

"Wait!" I demanded, my voice coloured with near-hysteria, "speak plainly. Are..." I swallowed heavily, preparing myself for the worst but refusing to believe it might be possible, "are my companions dead?"

"Yes. Dead. By now, they must be," the first said flippantly. I took a step back to steady myself. Dead. They were all...dead...

"No...only _two_ were dead...perhaps three for certain." The third gargoyle piped up for the first time, and the adrenaline that filled me almost knocked me off my feet.

"Who?" I asked, my voice shaking but getting louder, "_who_ was dead? Who did you see?" I couldn't think that way. I couldn't believe that perhaps I was as alone as I felt, that all of this was for nothing...

"The dwarf was alive, my brothers, do you not remember? He chased us, cursed us, but we got away," the first screeched.

"And the demon girl. She was with him," the second added. So Neeshka and Khelgar had survived. I wasn't entirely surprised. If anyone could have made their way out of that disaster, it was the two of them.

"What of the _dead_?" I snapped, getting impatient. I was glad for my friends who'd made it out alive, but I was kidding myself if I thought there wasn't one name in particular I was interested in. "Who were they?"

"A tiny man. The creature of metal tried to help him, but his body was fragile."

"And the woman with the green skin. She was crushed by the rocks." A cruel, cynical part of me that had been nurtured by the past few days thought that at if any were to die, it should be those I cared for the least. I had too little in common with Grobnar to consider him a friend, and Zhjaeve, though kind enough, had always been too distant and alien for me to get close to.

"You mentioned a third. Who was the third?" I asked plainly, my voice level and as calm as I could muster.

"A man, heavy with armour," the second replied. The air was knocked from my lungs all over again.

"No, brother, I did not see him with the dead. He could have survived," the first added quickly.

"But nor did I see him with the living," the second insisted. I couldn't deal with the uncertainty. My heart was pounding in my chest and I felt sweat beading on my brow. I had to know, one way or another, I had to know.

"Listen, you bloody creatures," I shouted raggedly, drawing my sword in a futile gesture, "just put your heads together and _think_ for a second! Was he killed or not? Is Casavir alive or dead?" My voice was nearing a shriek. The gargoyles shrunk back in fear.

"We know not, lady! He was hidden from our eyes! His fate is a mystery to us, and so it must remain to you as well."

I closed my eyes and drew in a long, deep breath, then released it. It wouldn't do to take out my frustration on the only creatures that might actually know something useful. So Casavir might be dead. That also meant that he might be alive. As long as that hope remained, I thought, I could deal with whatever else this world threw at me.

"And of the others?" I asked in a surprisingly calm voice. "There was a mage, and - and a warlock. What of them?"

"The mage we did not see. And the other...the fearsome one...he _followed_ us into the shadow realm, and tried to pursue. He was caught by the red lady."

"This red lady, who is she?" I demanded, knowing an opportunity when I saw one. "I have to...see her." Gut her, more like, but it wouldn't do to tell the gargoyles that.

"She is our mistress, lady. We cannot say."

"Then at least tell me what in the hells she wants with me!" I fumed, "Was it her who put me in that barrow?"

"It was us, lady, at her command. We dared not tarry, good master. We _feared_ what lay within...feared it even more than our white lady and her red twin together..."

And now I knew. It wasn't much to go on, but I didn't need much. I vowed then and there that I would kill her for what she did to me. Lienna was beyond that, but her 'red twin' was not. There was no reason she could give that would make up for what she'd done to me. Perhaps if she'd made any attempt to explain her actions or give me any kind of warning I wouldn't have been so filled with white hot rage, but as things stood I wanted little more than to make up for the pain she'd caused me. Well, that and a pint of real West Harbour ale and a long, _long_ rest with Casavir by my side, but one thing at a time...one thing at a time...

"But...but why did she do it? Why me?" I had to know. The mystery was gnawing at me like the barely contained hunger I kept inside.

"We were never _privy_ to their schemes. But...we know when those schemes took root, don't we brothers? We know who planted the seeds in their minds. And we will tell you, if you let us leave in peace."

"I won't harm you, promise," I said robotically, "Just tell me."

"It was the nine hags...the Slumbering Coven. Lienna visited them, together with her red twin. They heard the hags' counsel and they returned with _plans_.

"Yes, the Coven! They lair to the east, along the shores of Lake Mulsantir...in the depths of a city, half-submerged beneath the waters."

And so, just like that, I had a plan. I left Lienna's secret room then, and told the Gargoyles to tear and destroy to their hearts' content. Lienna had given me nothing but pain, and had left me with more questions than answers. I cared nothing for her possessions, just as she had cared nothing for my life.

It was only as we neared the Sloop to join with the others that Safiya spoke up.

"I'm sorry about your companions, for what it's worth," she said in a quiet, unassuming voice. If she'd been anyone else I might have laughed at the empty gesture, such was my black mood, but I knew she was sincere.

"Not half as sorry as I am, believe me."

"This Casavir. He sounds as if he was important to you," she probed carefully. Had I been that transparent? I supposed at this stage it hardly mattered.

"He _is_ important to me. Those gargoyles didn't know anything. If they didn't see him dead, then he's alive. I know him." Perhaps if I believed it hard enough, it would make it so. There was a long pause, and when Safiya spoke her voice held little conviction.

"Alright then."

It was the same voice I'd used to console madmen, and it told me that she thought I should be allowed to hold on to my foolish hope for just a little longer. That was all I needed.

We entered the Sloop, empty in the morning, and Safiya immediately went up to bed. I should have done the same, but there was something I wanted to do first. I got a stack of paper and a quill from the innkeeper, sat at a stained, battered-up table, and I wrote six letters, one after the other. The first was to the man in charge of Crossroad Keep (though I suspected it would in fact be a _woman_, and one woman in particular) briefly notifying him of what had happened to me, asking him to pass on my thanks to the men, and, as an afterthought, scrawled down a few instructions concerning the Keep. The second was to Kendra, telling her I was glad she was alive, that I hoped the baby was well, and that I was sorry for leaving her. There was a chance she died, but I figured there would be no one to deliver the letter to if that was the case. The third letter I wrote to Bevil, telling him to look after Kendra and saying what was, for all intents and purposes, a goodbye. I asked him to give Lisbeth a kiss for me, and told him that any money still in my name was now his, to spend on his sister and on Kendra and her baby. I also told him how much I was due in back wages from Neverwinter, and to claim it if he could. The idea of Bevil pretending to be my widowed husband in order to con Neverwinter out of the money it owed me made me smile for a moment. He deserved happiness, even if I was denied it.

The fourth letter was for both Neeshka and Khelgar, and spoke of my gratitude to the both of them for making my transition from farm girl to Knight-Captain as entertaining as could be. I figured that both of them had such strong senses of honour that I could expect whoever got the letter first to deliver it to the other. The fifth letter I wrote to my father. That one took longer than I'd thought. I asked him to forgive me for being such a burden, and thanked him from the bottom of my heart for all he'd done, and that I'd always loved him dearly. When death was staring you in the face, things were thrown into pretty sharp perspective. I'd spent so long resenting him, and now I regretted it more than I could have imagined. Still, I didn't write anything that would make him uncomfortable. I knew my father well enough to know how he felt about meaningless platitudes and the human way of showing affection.

Finally, I wrote to Casavir. And then I tore it up and wrote the letter again. And then a third time and a fourth until it was right. I told him not to try and find me, and that I was sorry if I ended up dying anyway. And then I told him it had all been worth it, every excruciating moment, because I'd met him. Finally, I told him I loved him, and that I was sorry I was too much of a fool to say it sooner. Poetry was useless at a time like this.

Then, I wrapped the lot up, and gave them to the innkeeper. I told him to find a delivery man, a horseman, I didn't care, as long as they were reliable, and to get the letters to Crossroad Keep. I gave him almost all the money I had, as well as a few trinkets, and said in no uncertain terms that I'd be coming back this way, and would be very disappointed, not to mention _murderous_, if I found he'd not done as I'd asked.

And then, I trudged upstairs and fell upon the bed that had been rented for me. The room span, and deep within me the hunger raged, but sleep was such a rare commodity these days that I didn't much care. As the clear, morning light streamed in through the dirty windows, my eyes closed contentedly, and I fell into a deep, dreamless slumber.

-+-+-+-+-+-

The door moved open a crack, and a head of cropped, reddish hair crowned by two small, elegant horns poked around it suspiciously. It was empty, save for the man who hadn't moved for almost three weeks now. She felt strange, visiting someone who couldn't talk back or, well, acknowledge her in any way whatsoever, but Neeshka wanted to know what all the fuss was about. It seemed people were always coming and going from this room. Some were healers who had every right to check up on the only patient left from the great battle of crossroad keep, but others came as well, from trusted companions to random scullery maids who took it in turns to read to him for some bizarre reason.

Alright, she reasoned as she took a seat in the well-worn chair by his bedside, Casavir always had his share of admirers, whether he knew it or not, and he'd always been popular with the people in the Keep, the young women in particular, but _still_, it was weird to sit next to a comatose man who was probably just dying slowly anyway and talk to him as if he could hear you.

It _was_ weird. Right?

Still, Neeshka had never been one to shy away from new experiences, and, she supposed, she owed him a goodbye.

"So," she started uncertainly, "you've been asleep for a while, huh?"

The cold, still room offered no answer.

"And I guess someone's already told you everything that's happened, right?"

Casavir's slightly parted lips didn't move. The bandages that encased his torso looked white and fresh, like they'd been changed recently.

"Well, just in case they haven't, you might as well know everyone's left. I mean Evie's friends from the south are still here, _and_ your sergeant, but pretty much everyone else has gone home. Kana's still around of course. Don't think anything short of a forest fire would get rid of her. But at least Nevalle's gone. And the paladins went back to Neverwinter thank the _Gods!_" She paused, mid eye-roll, and searched his face in case she'd caused any offence. Quickly, she backtracked, "I mean it's good that they've gone back to...somewhere...nice...I didn't mean that, you know, I hated them or anything." She paused, wrinkling her nose and feeling about as awkward as she usually did when talking to the servant of Tyr. Even when he was unconscious, Casavir still managed to unnerve her slightly. Still, she was realising slowly, it wasn't his fault. He'd never been anything but nice to her.

"So yeah, everyone else is gone. But they held this service for the fallen before most of the troops left. I guess they felt they owed all the dead folk something. It was kinda nice. Everyone got in front of that monument thing in the front courtyard and Nevalle said some crap about dying for your country. Or something. Oh! He also said this huge bit about _her,_ and he got it _all_ wrong. He said – and I remember this _word for word_ –" here she deepened her voice and put on as good an imitation of Nevalle's thick, high-class Neverwinter accent as she could hope for, "'She was beautiful and kind, a great warrior and a greater servant of Neverwinter, fearless and dedicated'. Can you _believe_ that? I mean, it's one thing to bury her as a Knight and all, but to make it out like she was this...this _servant_ to Nasher...I tell ya, if she were here she'd have given him a piece of her mind."

Neeshka sighed and pulled her knees up to her chin, wrapping her arms around her legs and feeling the following silence like a palpable force in the air.

"But I guess she's not here, is she?" the tiefling continued quietly, "Hells, that's the whole point of them havin' a funeral, ain't it? It was real pretty and all. Some families came. It's hard to remember they lost people too..."

There was a long moment of silence where she simply watched the paladin's chest rise and fall, her tail swaying idly where it crept over the arm of her chair.

"I'm not gonna be here when you wake up," she said, a little louder as though she wanted to make sure he heard, wherever he was, "but I guess you won't mind so much. I'm going back to Neverwinter, where I belong. There's not much keeping me here anyway. Khelgar said the same thing. In fact, he's going to the temple of Tyr to try and be a monk. I thought he'd given up on that plan, but apparently Evie'd said she thought he could do it. And, well, you know what he's like – he doesn't want to disappoint her, I guess."

Neeshka's head jerked towards the closed door as a muffled conversation drifted past in the hall. Then she looked back to the sleeping man on the bed and smiled to herself self-consciously. It _was_ silly, she thought, talking to a man who might never wake up. The healers all said Casavir should be dead several times over, and every day he continued to heal was a miracle.

Paladins always had made her skin itch, she thought as she rose from her chair and made for the door. But this one, perhaps, was different...

"Look," she started, turning her head back and smirking, "I guess you'll probably come back to Neverwinter too, won't you? It's just...if you do, it'd be nice, is all. So...I guess I'll see you in the Flagon some time." Her broad smile made up for the doubt she felt.

If he ever woke up, Neeshka would be happy enough to overlook the fact that he and her were natural enemies. But as the days turned into weeks, she thought grimly, the 'if' was starting to get bigger and bigger...

Unbeknownst to all, Casavir slept. And dreamed...

A.N. So I might have lied about Evelyn actually killing the gargoyles. I haven't played the game in so long that I'd forgotten how that scene actually played out ^^. I'm sorry about the bitty writing in this chapter. If I told you it was on purpose to mirror Evelyn's fragile, disjointed frame of mind, would you believe me? No? Damn.

Next chapter – three days is a long time to spend on a boat to Ashenwood, so Evelyn finally gets a real conversation with Gann. After that it's off to Immil Vale where a snooze beneath that rock gives our pissed-off heroine more than she bargained for. Oh yes, and there's a kiss. Exciting stuff ;)


End file.
